


The Tides that Pulled Me to You

by socialexecution



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Drug Use, Light Smut, M/M, Sad, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Trans Male Character, a lot of rape mentions, no real ending, this is all just from an rp, this rp was a shitshow but i loved it, trans ricks, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-06
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 118,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22587703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/socialexecution/pseuds/socialexecution
Summary: A collection of roleplays between me and my friend, developing the relationship between Rickley, a scorned and shunned X-Rick, and Plug Rick, a criminal drug dealer. This is completely unedited, I just wanted to archive the whole rp. There's no real ending and its extremely sad.
Relationships: Rick Sanchez/Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty), rickley/plug rick
Kudos: 5





	1. Glory and Gallows

Rickley know this would happen eventually but he hoped he’d die before it did. A bad drug habit landed him between a rock and a hard place, and he’d only had one chance to redeem himself. And he’d lost that chance.

Convicted and sentenced. He barely remembered the trial or the days waiting in solitude for his eventual final sentence. Now, here he was, walking like a zombie in the line to be roughly tossed into a random cell. Rickley was honestly terrified. His cellmate was sure to kill him, he knew, because who could resist beating and fucking the shit out of something so helpless?

He bit the inside of his cheek until his mouth filled with blood. Pale blue eyes widened when he spotted a familiar face– well, all the faces were familiar… but he knew this one better than the others. Plug had been… caught? Well, that was… interesting.

Tearful eyes watched him in terror as they were ushered to the cells. He watched as other Ricks were tossed inside and locked up immediately. He turned his head back to Plug, unable to stop staring.

Things hadn’t exactly… worked out.

This right here, the shackles that bound his two fidgeting hands together a little too tightly before him - this was simply a manifestation of textbook murphy’s law. A miscalculation, personal error that lead his whole operation astray; How the hell had he let himself get so sloppy? All it took was one deal going wrong to end up here, in this… In this processing line shuffling forward obediently, trying to ignore the crushing mental weight of iron walls, heavy chains.

Spending the last few days in detainment without the usual constant supply of drugs had left Rick with a lot of achy-boned, disorientatingly sober time to reflect on the situation. Those guard bastards had been on his back for a while, but he never thought they’d actually, y'know, manage to catch up with him. He was the Plug. But somehow they managed to track him, and they’d taken him down hard enough for some of the bruises and scrapes to last.

Man, he’d really lived up to the /not going back to prison/ shpiel, hadn’t he? Biiiig fucking success. At least this time he’d returned on deserved charges.

Yeah, he’d had a good run at the drug game, that was for fuckin’ sure. The court case had been mostly a dizzying blur of council Ricks gazing down at him with some pseudo authoritarian aire, wherein he was forced to defend himself in singularity. It’d taken those idiots fifteen minutes just to read off the list of illegal substances he’d been carrying on his person. If anything, he figured this would be good for his street cred.

Rickslaughter was a heavy claim to lay against him for selling narcotics. After all, it really wasn’t /his/ fault that Rick overdose deaths has skyrocketed since he’d been distributing. It figured - their whole “court of law” sham was much more a platform of entertainment than a place of justice. Plug didn’t remember the sentencing for the life of him; he couldn’t hear anything over his own voice hurling curses in protest.

So here he was, trapped like an animal. Ricks’ tightly balled up fists shook with rage. His gut tightened with every passing moment he spent penned in by four walls, shoved around and talked down to like a lesser being.

And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

It was infuriating to know he was at the mercy of other Ricks now, caged alongside his doppelgangers and subject to guards’ unfair and biased judgement. Plug hated seeing his own face everywhere, with the same thin-lipped, low browed grimmace of quietly simmering rage, or the twisted grins of guards that got a kick out of their position of power, or -

Or full of tears glancing over their shoulder back at him, eyes alighting with a flicker of recognition.

Plug met the fearful stare with caution and questioning, squinting back at his counterpart. Oh shit, was that sick Rick?

Oh fuck, it /was/. Rick couldn’t hide his initial reactionary frown in response; this wasn’t the most ideal situation to be meeting again, joint involved. Yet… it was mildly refreshing to see a familiar face amongst a sea of strangers. Plug nodded once deliberately in return, acknowledging their aquaintanceship. “H-hey,” he greeted flatly. “Fuckin’ shitshow in here, am I r–”

“No talking in line!” Their attentive guard snapped, shoving Plug forward roughly, eliciting an ‘oof’ and a glare so sharp it could kill. “Back in formation!”

Chik-chik, chik-chik the chains rattled in unison. The cacophony of other voices echoing in the chamber lined with individual, two-person cells was nearly deafening. The only thing louder was the BZZT of doors opening, pairs of Ricks thrown in together before the door slammed shut. Plug had a feeling it was set up this way purposefully in favor of maximum discomfort.

Plug braced himself as the marching line drew shorter and shorter, his look of obvious misery etching itself deeper into his features. Fuck fuck fuck. This doors’ label matched the numbers stitched into his jumpsuit - 457-R.

With another loud BZZT that sent his heart plummeting into his stomach, the door opened, and hands clasped around his upper arms with a grip that was waaaay too tight for comfort. Plug caught movement in his peripheral vision of sick Rick being grabbed similarly, the pair more or less dragged forward. Oh shit, /they/ were together?

“Ow, ow, w-watch it!” He snapped, pulling away and digging his heels in to provide resistance. Rick would be damned if he’d make things easy for these assholes.

It was a useless effort, feeble at best. The guards wrenched his arm one good time and he flinched, forced to comply - lest his shoulder would be pulled out of the socket. “F-fuck! Okay, okay!”

With the brush of a hand holding something obscured from vision, the chains binding his limbs fell away. Rick was then promptly and unceremoniously thrown into his assigned cell after his new roommate, landing with the majority of his weight on his hands. “Sh- shit!” He stuttered a curse, air nearly knocked out of his chest by the force of the landing against unforgiving concrete. The door slammed hard behind them, leaving him and Sick together in the dim light of a barren cell defined only by bare necessities.

Rickley made an effort to hide the stitching on his own jumpsuit. ‘X’ was all he could think of, and it was all he heard from the Ricks around him. He wasn’t a Terror-Rick. He wasn’t bad luck he was just… just…

Maybe he was bad luck. Plug was here, so he must be.  
And then there was an overwhelming panic when they approached his cell. It was stabbing into his chest and ripping his skin from his face, piece by piece by piece by piece by...

A hard slap on his face pulled him from his terror-stricken stance. He cried out and stood there frozen as a guard easily tossed him inside. He landed on the cement without grace, his head thumping dully on the hard floor. With a groan, Rickley turned to look at the other Rick and curled up.

Seeing his face, his panic subsided. But then it grew again as he realized that this Rick knew practically everything about him from his drug hazes and drunken episodes. He knew how to manipulate manipulate manipu–

"P-Plug R-R-Rick,’ he croaked.  
Throat dry, face sunken, eyes tired.

Son of a bitch, that impact had done a number on his joints. They’d already been sore from handcuffs clasped to taught, but that last hit made him feel weak, resonating all the way up the tendon in his wrists.

“Uuuuuugh.” With a prolonged groan that expressed his discomfort, Plug shakily pushed himself off the floor and into a sitting position, rubbing his upper arm gingerly. The guards were unnecessarily rough, and he was out of shape.

It didn’t seem like his cellmate had been treated any kinder in this course of events. Then again, this guy was a fucking mess outside bars, and that was a lot coming from Plug.

Ricks’ eyes flicked disinterestedly over Rickleys’ cowering form. Oh boy, Rick sure had a stroooong feeling that Sick wasn’t cut out for this shit.

And they were roommates. Plug had a hunch that their arrangement wasn’t a coincidence, orchestrated by some higher up.

Collecting himself as best he could, Plug ran a hand through his hair and tried to fight off a black, sinking feeling.

“Y-yeah,“ Plug responded dryly, assuming Sick was stuttering out his name to confirm his identity. “Th-that’s - that’s me.”

Or it had been, at least. Raising both hands to his face, he lowered his head into them defeatedly. “I-I think its- it’s just Rick now.” He released a stressed sigh and dragged his fingers down his face, pulling at his dark circles. “Fuck, I-I-I don’t know.” It was hard to tell what was right and what wasn’t anymore when your world came crashing down like this.

Plug brought his knees to his chest and rested his elbows on them, glancing around the dimensions of their alloted room. It was dismally gray just like all of their acoutraments; the bed cots looked just as uncomfortable as the cold floor. They each had sparse items waiting for them on the beds - a blanket, thin mattress, toothbrush.

It was hard to look at this and /not/ feel like shit. And his counterparts’ anxiety was /definitely/ not helping. “H-hey, hey, Sick.” His voice wasn’t scornful, just stern. “Get - get your shit together, man. For th-the both of us.”

Sounds like Rick didn’t even give a damn to learn his name. That… kinda hurt.  
“R-Rickley,” he corrected quietly, before forcing himself to stop crying, his chest feeling like it was falling apart.

Dirty fingernails dug into the grey pale flesh of his own arms and dragged in straight red lines across. A subconscious habit, something he’d never been able to shake. It was pretty obvious, too, with his scars scattered all over his body. Some thin, some thick, some clean, some ragged. It just depended on that day…

At least he’d managed to stop crying.  
He pressed himself against the wall on his side of the cell, the coldness sending a shiver down his weak body. He didn’t say anything more. If Rick wanted silence– he’d get silence.

The heavy blanket of quiet that enveloped the room only allowed for the muffled sound of outside voices to filter in, a thousand omnipresent syllables. Rick rubbed fingers at his temples, pressing fingertips in hard, finding that the silence was arguably worse.

Oh, /fuck/, he’d forgotten this guys’ real name in his haste to aquire a moment of silence. “Oh sh-shit,“ he cursed as the realization dawned that he’d used Rickleys’ /slander/ name against him. He just felt so fucking overwhelmed that he hadn’t thought about it, and it’d just slipped out. "R-Rickley, it’s Rickley,” he reiterated over his mistake. “F-fuck, man, I-I’m- …”

What may have been a tumbled out apology was cut short when Rick looked up and caught sight of Rickleys’ fingernails carving big lines down his own forearm. It was like he couldn’t take his eyes off of it, no matter how hard he grimaced. The red beaded down.

He looked down at his own arms, the uniform he wore sleeveless; old scars stared back at him from where they resided, their divets in the skin. Maybe Ricks weren’t entirely different after all. Fuck.

Rick didn’t know what to say, so he just sat in silence. He stared back at himself grinding layers of skin away, feeling like he wasn’t watching this unfold through his own set of eyes.

“… Sh-shit.” Rick ground a palm into his forehead, pushing down a roaring stress headache brewing underneath the surface. “Hey, hey, Rickley. I-I reeeeally didn’t mean it like /that/.” Rick struggled to backtrack, gloss over the whole thing like it wasn’t a huge slap to the face, insult to injury. Or rather injury due to insult.

Rick sighed and slouched his shoulders. “L-look, w-we’re both going through some shit.” That was putting it lightly. “Th-the two of us, we’re in here. W-we’re cellmates.” He held his hands out as if weighing those facts in his palms. “Fuck everything. Y-you and me - W-w-we can’t afford to be enemies in a-a place like th-this.” That was something that he was keen on, knowledge gained from experience and observation. “I-it’s worse in here th-than it was last time.”

Rickley blinked slowly and watched detached at the drips of blood running down his arm. Rick’s words seemed far away but he lifted his head and his voice became clear. Honestly, he’d been called the name so many times he didn’t blame Plug for using it. Sometimes, he even slipped up–  
Though he’d never admit it.

He pulled his nails away and flicked bits of bloodied skin to the floor apatheticly, staring down once more.

"I n-never said I w-was your enemy,” Rickley commented through chapped lips, his eyes closing slowly as he leaned back against the wall again.

“It w-will do you m-more h-h-harm than good t-to help me. I-If you want to g-get on the g-guards’ good sides, c-call em o-over and give em a show. Th-they’d treat you b-better if you d-did s-somethin to me, c-cause they j-just like to see it. R-reminds them of th-the day I came t-to the C-Citadel,” he was rambling now, his eyes still shut but tighter now, his face looking pained and uncomfortable.

As the words poured out of Rickley, thicker and more viscous than the blood running freely over his arm, Ricks’ jaw only clenched tighter. He was really starting to understand how he’d earned that infamous sick connotation.

God, all he wanted right now was a fucking drink to chug, numb his mind to this onslaught of emotional pain and environmental pressure. If he had to endure one more moment of self derogatory bullshit –

”Stop, stop, y-you can just, just stop r-right there.“ Plug raised a hand, waving it dismissively as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, squeezing his eyes shut. This guy was going to be a challenge to function around, but at least he could count on not being shanked in his sleep.

"Look, I don’t know w-w-what happened to /you/,” he prefaced, holding his hands up in a gesture of openness, honesty. Well, he didn’t know the specifics, anyway. "But I-I don’t fucking fly like th-that.” The cards were on the table: he wasn’t going to just start wailing on Rickley for fun. Especially not for the entertainment purposes of people he loathed. “Fuck th-the guards. I’ll, I’ll kill ‘em all and burn this prison to the ground i-if I can.” That was where he stood on the issue, feet placed firmly on the side of antiestablishment.

Rickley stared at him before slowly turning away at his words. It was kind of confusing. No one had ever… said no. Not that he really asked ever but… it was different.

He didn’t like it.

Rickley forced himself to stand and throw himself down on the hard cot, head banging sickeningly against the metal frame. Maybe the years of abuse, they finally got the concept hammered into his mind? The fact that the only thing he’s good for is the benefit of others…

Eyes lined with ice flicked over to Plug before down to his blanket, frail fingers tearing at the manilla– formerly white– fabric. He moved a hand to press against his own neck and scrape delicately into the sides.

He really was… /sick/.

It was becoming more apparent with every passing minute the pair stayed entrapped within this confined space that something was gutturally wrong with Rickley. Damn, he thought he’d caught a glimpse of how sick this guy was before, but all those times he’d come around to sell him dangerous drugs were nothing comparative to this.

BANG! The collision of skull against metal resounded in their chamber tenfold. Rick bared his yellowed teeth in a flinch against it, skin crawling;

They’d housed them together on purpose - openly unstable elements residing together we’re bound to reach a breaking point. Fast.

“D-D-don’t fucking /do/ th-that!” Rick snapped from his corner, digging fingers into messy blue locks aggressively, like he was fighting off the impression of that gut-wrenching sound. “J-Jeez, Rickley, wuh- what the fuck is y-your problem, man?!”

Maybe that was a question better left unasked. Who knew what could turn a Rick into such a mental catastrophe?

Using a flat hand against the wall to help himself up to his feet, Rick took the full two paces to his uncomfortable looking bed cot and sat on it, cradling his head in his hands. This was eating away at his psyche already - everything was too real. He let his hands fall to his lap, immediately catching Rickleys’ empty gaze from the opposite side of the room. Thin fingers dug into skin, breaking the surface like water tension. Spaced only feet apart, the spectacle was as entrancing as it was disturbing.

“Y-you’re sure going out of y-your way to make this a-aaa whoooole lot harder,” Rick pointed out callously, forcing his expression to return to baseline numbness. It was debatable whether he meant it in regards to the situation in general, or for himself. “I’m sober, y-you think that /I/ don’t want to f-fucking freak out?” Ricks’ tone of voice was becoming only more agitated as the stress worked its’ way under his skin. “Aaaall /you’re/ doing is - is throwing blood in the water.” Literally. “A-and it’s going to get us both killed.”

The blank eyes averted from Plug and his fingers dropped immediately in submission, the bruises forming slowly on his neck. He curled up a little bit, sniffling and sighing and closing his eyes. He opened them again moments later with a quiet, solemn stare. He barely conscious right now, his body trembling and afraid.

“I’m sssorrryyy…!” He said, clenching his teeth and going completely still, trembling completely stopped. Rickley’s body was twisted in an uncomfortable position, frozen like a statue. His breathing was so slow it was barely heard.

Thoughts raced behind his blank eyes, memories of flashbacks and flashbacks of memories and the feeling of something bitterly hold upon his torso. It hurts…

He’d gone too far.

That hysterical sound Rickley made, that haunting wail of an apology hung in the air above them like a noose. The narrow space between their four walls became clouded with a sense of oozing dread, dark and heavy. The air itself was thick.

Or maybe that was just the breath catching in his own throat. There was something about the primal fear that defined his counterparts’ cry - Rick felt like he’d been impaled right through the sternum center of his chest, leaving nothing behind in its’ wake. Just a devastating emptiness.

Jaw slack in shock, Plug watched unwaveringly as Rickley curled up around himself as tightly as physically possible, muscles all tensed to the point of visible strain. Rick thought for a moment that he was staring /at/ him, but those eyes just… Looked right through his body as if he were transparent, an accompanying ghost.

What the fuck had he done? He should’ve known that Rickley couldn’t handle this, function off of the same verbatim of brutal honesty and vague threats like a /Rick/.

He’d just been so angry that he’d taken it out on the only person around –

Oh, fuck - he was just as bad as the other Ricks that scared Rickley so much. No wonder he was fucking catatonic.

Rick opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, at a loss. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“… It’s - it’s okay, R-Rickley.” He held up both hands palms out in a universal sign of ‘calm down’. His voice was controlled and even, tinged with just the barest hint of sympathy. “L-listen, Rickley, everything’s gonna- it’s gonna be okay. I-I-I’m, I’m really not /mad/ at you.“

This guy had the fucken audacity to go back on his harsh words that bit like flies on the corpse that was Rickley’s heart. Maybe in another time Rickley would have gotten mad. Maybe he would’ve reacted, even. But he didn’t even hear Plug’s half-assed apology.

It’s okay? It wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. Everything was falling apart and now Rickley was stuck with someone that was just like the rest of them– except this one didn’t want to fuck him, he wanted fuck with his head instead. At least that’s what it felt like.

He continued to stare, the words soon coming to him but he was unable to move or respond or make any kind of noise except for the soft breathing…

in out in out in out

Until it stopped being noticeable all together and it wasn’t very clear if he’d stopped breathing or just quieted.

No dice. Rickley didn’t shift an inch out of his paralyzed state of shock, completely unresponsive to what had been been an admittedly shit attempt to patch things over.

Yeah, he wouldn’t forgive himself either, after all that shit he’d said about blood in the water. This character recovery mission was really a futile effort, wasn’t it?

Rick finally averted his eyes, feigning disinterest poorly. Rickley wasn’t coming out of this corner he’d managed to push him into, some next level anxiety attack. Not for a while.

Everything was just… so fucked up. Rick couldn’t begin to wrap his mind around the concept of another consecutive day of this, much less spanning on for the rest of his life.

The silence was maddening, unpunctuated. The darkness was so bleak.

Suppressing a shiver against the encroaching cold emanating from the concrete and metal, Rick wrapped his assigned blanket around his shoulders. It was too thin to build up comfortable warmpth, but he’d take the hand he was dealt right now. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice on the matter.

Rick leaned his elbows on his knees and bowed his head, brow resting on the back of a hand. With his face obscured from view, he finally let himself grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut hard, for a short moment expressing enotions he’d been diligently containing–

And then a short, bitter laugh arose from his hunched form. There was no humor in its’ notes, grating and harsh, deadpan hysteric. “Is- is this really w-what it’s going to be like?” The two of them together, feeding into one another’s negativity consistently?

Rick released a sigh of breath exhaustedly, pushing down whatever had just bubbled up to the surface. He didn’t care, he didn’t. “Ffffuck.” Pull it together. Wait it out til the morning. He’d put the pieces together then, figure something out.

Took him a while, but when there was a loud, earsplitting voice calling them awake, Rickley nearly fell out of the cot. He let out a small cry before pulling himself up on weak legs. The voice of a Rick was practically screaming down on the maximum security prisoners, forcing them awake. Something about eating in the canteen. Something about daily showers. Something about prison work. Rickley wanted to hide himself away…

He leaned against the wall weakly, watching the cell door with intensity. He knew it’d be open in any minute and they’d have to join the others. It made Rickley feel sick to his stomach. And head. And body in general.

Rickley turned mechanically to Plug, jaw clenched and posture straightening. He’d have to be an acceptable Rick for this one, wouldn’t he…?

WAKE UUUUP, PRISONERS! TIME FOR–

The overpowering, scratchy speaker-filtered voice blasting through the window hole in the door startled Rick into consciousness so violently that he snapped his head up, the back of it bumping against the wall with a dull thud. “Ughfffuck!” He automatically recoiled in pain, throwing balled fists up as if prepared to defend himself against an attacker.

Despite what his instincts told him, the only apparent threat was the rediculously /early/ morning wakeup call, dutifully reciting off the daily schedule with a definitive sneer.

It felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest, but he slowly let his guard down, shoulders slumping forward. Rick rubbed at the back of his head tenderly, glaring at the door as if it had been at fault. Rubbing the haze from his eyes, he threw his legs over the cot, the cold radiating from the floor seeping through his thin soled shoes. It was going to take a few days to get used to this rude awakening… All over again.

This still felt like a bad dream.

He looked opposite himself at his cellmate. Rickley was already on his feet, undoubtedly finding the announcements equally as frightening - arguably /much more/. They met eyes briefly, and Rickley stiffened in place as if on cue, throwing a flimsy disguise over the anxiety welling up, the fear. At least he was putting forth an effort, instead of just crumbling apart.

Plug groaned as he stood, palm raising to forehead to fight off a withdrawal headache originating from just behind an eye. This was what, day four? Five? It didn’t feel natural to be sober for this long. If it were an option, he’d just sleep it off, but he knew better than that.

BZZT. The collective sound of a thousand doors swinging open at once rung out, locks undoing with a series of loud clunks. With their view unobstructed and the fluorescent lights turned on high, Rick could look out and see Ricks pouring out of multilevel cells in groups of two or three. A sea of clones, dressed head to toe in orange.

Day one. Rick stretched his arms behind his head, like he was preparing for something challenging. “Well, y-you - you ready?” He nodded at his roommate to indicate that the words were directed at him. Of course he wasn’t, Rick knew that already - but he wasn’t going to just throw the guy to the wolves right off the bat. “I-it’s a pain in the ass, but it’s uh. Nothing I-I haven’t y'know, been through before.” Rick shrugged casually, popping his stiff neck with a flinch. Experience with a situation like this would come in handy for any newbie. “So when I say you deeeefinitely don’t w-want to stay behind, I’d, uh. Not do th-that.”

PRISONERS, TWO SINGLE FILE LINES BY POD NUMBER–

Rick glanced out the door with half-lidded indifference, noting that lines were already forming for food. “Come on. I-if you get stuck at the uuurp back of th-the line you’ll be standing there forever.”  
Startling at Plug’s voice, Rickley looked at him with dull eyes and slowly nodded at his words, shoulders slumping in submission as soon as the cell doors opened. The cacophony of Ricks floating through the halls gave him a bad feeling.

He followed Plug slowly and picked up his pace at the mention of getting left behind. He wasn’t hungry, but the thought of being separated from the only familiar face in the prison of deadly criminals was not appealing.

The canteen was miserable. Grey trays topped with grey food, grey silverware and grey water. It was all grey. Rickley hurried along the line, staring at the Ricks who served them. They seemed miserable, and he assumed they were prisoners from a less secure level, given jobs.

He took his food and sat at his pod’s tables, stiff and afraid to even move or look up. Rickley stared down at the food with terrified eyes.

One thing was for sure: Rickley wasn’t much of a conversationalist. It was probably just nerves getting the better of his tongue - or reservations held over from whatever last nights’ drama had been about. Plug supposed he should be thankful that he wasn’t paired up with a chattier Rick, but it wouldn’t kill the guy to pipe up every once in a while, would it?

Maybe it /would/. Rick just couldn’t pin down exactly what made this guy so withdrawled and unRicklike, so…. Rickley.

His presence was so quiet that Rick had to glance back at his companion to affirm that he was still following in his footsteps. That much was wise; if he was deathly afraid of other inmates, then it was best to stick around what he knew. Besides, Rick didn’t mind being puppydogged after, entirely.

Pick up a clunky plastic tray, move down the line. One foot after the other, shuffling at a snails pace; giving a moment to assess the faces they were accompanied by, to sneak a squinted look up at where guards were posted on the catwalk above. Security was tight.

The wet sound of something sliding onto his plate drew his attention back. This… could barely be qualified as food. It was all the same shade of dismal gray, and a texture that certainly /seemed/ inedible. Ah, good ol’ prison slop. He hadn’t missed this.

Accepting the handout wordlessly, Rick found a mostly empty table thus far and sat down. To no surprise, Rickley faithfully stuck close to his side, remaining stone still and quiet even at the table.

“W-what, you - you just gonna stare at it?” Rick called him out on it, figuring that being addressed might be enough to snap him back into reality. He picked up a flimsy fork and nudged at the ‘food’. “C'mon, it’s - it really looks worse th-than it is,” he halfheartedly encouraged.

Ignoring the disgusting nature of their poor excuse for edible material, Rick took a bite. He crinkled his nose in distaste immediately, fork clattering into the tray. Reaching for the water, he took a sip, only to find that it was equally as bad.

Choking in surprise, Rick erupted into a coughing fit. He made a fist and whacked it against his chest to clear his windpipe, which apparently worked. “N-nope, that was- that’s pretty bad,” he wheezed. Borderline sickening, maybe, but it was either this or starve. He took another bite. “I-I was deeeefinitely wrong on th-that one.”

The slow dragging time made Rickley oblivious to most of the events around him, and he seemed barely conscious when he sat. Plug’s voice came through clear, though, and he flinched slightly at the words. He wasn’t hungry. He didn’t want to eat.

Rickley watched him quietly as he took a bite of the food, and he cringed inwardly at Plug’s disgust. Rickley moved his head to stare down at his own grey tray, tears welling in his eyes. He turned his face away from Plug so that the man couldn’t see his weakness. The previous night had made him painfully aware of his fragility.

He gripped the plastic fork and let out a small, shuddering breath. Apologies rushed through his mind but didn’t reach his lips, so he sat there, mouth trembling in attempted words. But he was helpless.

And still there was no response. Rickley hadn’t said a single damn word since last nights’ fiasco, holding some sort of grudge. It was like he was talking to a depressed brick wall. Rick turned to say something to his unresponsive companion, all hunched over his tray and–

On the verge of tears. Oh shit. He averted his gaze away as casually as possible, trying to disguise the fact that he’d seen Rickleys’ eyes well over before he tried to hide them. It was pointless, he could tell even then by body posture, but…

Rick wasn’t one for supporting the notion of empathy, but there was the weirdest tug in his chest that suggested otherwise.

“Look, I-I’m gonna level with you here.” He sighed deeply, preparing himself for a statement he really would prefer not to make. “If y-you’re still upset about th-the shit I said - it wasn’t entirely, y'know… about you.”

He stared out over the slow moving, dreary crowd without a trace of human emotion. “Y-you- you reeeeally remind me of how I w-was when I breezed through here the first time.” It was hard to imagine they’d been anything alike by their wild difference in behavior. “All fucked up a-and shit.” The whole thing brought back some memories he’d rather not have. “It threw me off. So I guess I’m sorry, or w-whatever.”

It was a last ditch effort to slap a patch over that shit, but it probably went on deaf ears. “Just- just do me a huuuuge solid and /don’t/ stab me over that w-when I’m asleep, okay?” Rick absentmindedly rubbed his side reminiscently, like it ached.

Rickley didn’t look at him until he managed to stop the tears. Rick’s voice was less harsh this time, and it quelled his nerves. He was tired and afraid and scared but the apology helped him slightly. It made his eyes look slightly alive and the color return slowly to his face.

“I w-w-wont,” he said to the last comment, slightly taken aback from it but he brushed it off. He didn’t know what to say. That he was gonna stop being an annoying shit? Well that was impossible, so, no…

Rickley nodded at Rick in acceptance and turned his face back to his plate before the booming voice returned to order them to the showers.

Fear shot through his tender heart and he gripped the table, shoulders bunching. He kept blue eyes glued to the table in resistance. He couldn’t do that…

It was… Oddly relieving to finally hear a few syllables from Rickley, no matter how meek. Cutting the taught lines of tension made this ordeal just the faintest hint less threatening.

Rick glanced over, noting that his companion here was starting to look a little better. Maybe. They met eyes for the brief duration of Rickleys’ nod that must symbolize forgiveness or something, shrugging nonchalantly in response. “… Thanks.” He poked at his food disinterestedly. “The feeling’s, uh - i-its mutual.” No random stabbings in their cell removed a big chunk of complication, started them off on the right foot. Rick wouldn’t call it trust, but it was about as close as they could come.

The announcers voice was really starting to grate on his nerves. To think for a minute there, he’d actually let himself forget about the most uncomfortable mandatory practice here. “Uuuugh, fuuuck,” Rick sighed, squeezing his eyes shut in apparent exhasperation. He really, /really/ hadn’t missed the whole communal shower setup.

But it was his counterpart that put up the most defensive front. Rickleys’ hands clutched onto the tables’ edge like a vice, as if it would save him. Rick took a ginger sip of his drink before he acknowledged the issue, watching others stand and start to move.

“L-listen, th-the first few days in here before you establish yourself a-are really the hardest,” he tried to console, but it just came out as cynisism. “I feel you, dawg. Against the system n’ shit. But y-you just gotta - you gotta go along with their bullshit. Trust me.” After all, he’d know better in the grand scheme of things. “Look.”

If Rickley were to follow the path that Ricks’ finger pointed toward, he’d catch sight of guards moving along stubborn Ricks with quick stabs of some sort of electric prod. Like herding cattle that screamed. “Th-those fuckers hurt.”

Getting up and going wasn’t really something that Rickley could just opt out of. Rick stood up from his seat and waited on Rickley to ultimately come to the only intelligent decision he could make in this situation: to follow. “S-sorry, bud, y-you’re just - just gonna have to compartmentalize th-that shit, cause - cause I-I don’t think either of us feel like getting fried.“

The reality of the situation held him down in the seat like a dead weight, and he felt unable to move. He knew he had to go. He was extremely afraid.

After a few moments Rickley shivered and held back a quiet sob. At least he had enough dignity to hide his face from Rick while it happened. He stood, following Rick like he was on his way to an execution. Well. It wasn’t too far off.

When ordered to take their jumpsuits off, Rickley found he was unable. The crippling fear that anyone would see the brand or even remotely recognize him was deeply seated inside of him.

He was refusing. His mind wouldn’t let him do what he was told. The guard approached and he let out a panicked noise and began to take his jumpsuit off. When bare, Rickley pressed his back against the wall to hide the brand, attempting to cover his scar laden body with weak and shaking hands.

Another line to fall into, closely monitored by guards who were frankly overly armed for the job. Rick glared around at their dismal surroundings, but didn’t let his eyes linger on his companion out of sympathy, or something. Being stared at when you were all emotional always made everything worse.

Although he didn’t know exactly what made Rickley so scared of others of his kind, per se, Plug had this knotted feeling in his gut that those fears were justified. This was really rialing the guy up - he composed himself like he was marching to his death.

“W-watch yourself a-and you’ll be fine,” he advised quietly, forcing out a half lie just to coddle to his feelings in the hopes of avoiding a freakout. Truth was, there was no garuntee of anything. After all, the shower room was the one place in the prison where security seriously lapsed, wild shit could happen.

Following along with barked orders begrudgingly, the orange uniform fell away and he stepped out of it in time with the other Ricks lined against the wall. This was fucking uncomfortable. He didn’t appreciate being this exposed, every scar and track mark out in the open for all to see. It wasn’t exactly like he went around flashing certain features - the telltale scars under his navels, the big pink line running diagonally across his abdomen.

Rickley made a poor choice in refusing, making himself an easy target for their overseers. As one of them approached, Rick shied away nervously, clenching his jaw as he prepared to witness his cellmate get the absolute shit shocked out of them. But to his relief, he chose to comply instead. Wise decision.

Moving forward, Rick kept his head high despite the humiliation this was designed to highlight. A single look at his face would reveal just how dead inside he really felt, though.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The water was cold, coming down from all angles and pooling on the tile. No guards. This is where things got hairy.

Rickley didn’t know how to react to the situation. The shock of the cold water had him shivering and continuing to cover himself. The Ricks around them watched with shark-like eyes, dark and menacing and wanting.

He stayed by Plug, afraid for his life. He wanted to stay pressed against the wall but he couldn’t bear to look at the others anymore. Slowly, with a stabbing, gnawing fear, Rickley turned and faced the wall, embracing numb hands on the tile. He pulled a soap bar up and gingerly began to scrub at his own body.

It was visible.  
Incredibly visible.  
The large red X branded directly in the middle of Rickley’s back was painfully obvious. He bit his lip and tried to ignore the stares he could feel on his back.

“Holy shit! It’s a fucking X!” Someone said.

And then there was a flurry of yelling towards Rickley, someone grabbed his arm but it was all too fast for him to take in. Something about being a Morty killer. Scum. Piece of X shit.

It was starting to hurt.

And the water rained down, unforgivably cold. The chill went straight to the core; his fingers were already numb and slow to react, curled above his brow to shield his eyes. He knew better than to let his guard down.

Rick tried to edge away from others as best he could, directing piercing glares at those who dared draw too close. This was weird. Even Rickley was pushing his luck, but at least he kept to himself, maintained a degree of distance. Never looked up.

Something striking in his peripheral vision caught the attention of his eye - a streak of color that stood out starkly against the backdrop of gray. An blaring red X.

Rick had to do double back and /look/, taken aback by the deep mark gouged into Rickleys’ back, struck across the bony shoulderblades. Holy fuck, what was that?

Unluckily for Rickley, he hadn’t been the only one to take notice. The other Ricks fixated upon him with predatory intention, drawing others in until they were all uproariously upset -

Rick suddenly understood in full complexity exactly why Rickley had been so fucking terrified. That X situated squarely on Rickleys’ back was the biggest, most obvious target he’d ever seen.

Out came the wolves. The sudden whirlwind of activity was confusing, and Rick was still trying to puzzlepiece together what the fuck was happening and why by the time someone reached out and grabbed his cellmate by the forearm and pulled him into the chaos.

Everything went to shit so fast. The crowd rushed to their side of the room, pinning defensive Rickley against the wall so that there was no escape. Rick watched in horror with his brow deeply furrowed, jaw hanging slack in shock as the first strike came down.

Something happened. He wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the pent up frustration finally reaching a breaking point, or old traumas resurfacing, or maybe it was some sort of bullshit moral crisis - a turning point or a switch flipped;

Rick fucking snapped.

The rage that powered his limbs forward was blinding; he hadn’t been aware that he’d darted forward until he was staring an attacking Rick in the face, close enough to see pupils flick in his direction.

“AAAAAAAAH!” One of his fists came down to deliver a solid blow right along the cheekbone, knuckles reverberating against skin with a grotesque thud. The offender went down hard, flesh bouncing against tile.

The other arm swung around double time, clocking another Rick directly in the nose. “GET SOME, m-motherfucker!” He couldn’t tell if the give under his fist was the bridgebone in the guys’ face crunching, or a bone in his hand fracturing. He didn’t care. The only goal was standing between the angry crowd and Rickley, keep his ground.

Blood trickled down his cheeks like thick, crimson tears. Rickley couldn’t feel his body, the rough, bruising grip of one particularly dominant Rick– Apparently known as Rick ?-122.

122 was a criminal with a cacophony of charges, and it kind of got him a bit of a hierarchy in the prison. Premeditated homicide, sexual assault, theft, drug possession, arson– anything you could think of.

So when Plug pulled him off of Rickley and started beating the shit out of him, the other Ricks were quite… shocked.

?-122 hurled punches back but was quickly subdued by the hits to his nose that lead to the sickening crunch of it breaking.

The poor little X Rick stood back and cried, blood decorating his skinny little body. He held his hands at his junk to hide it, ashamed that /he/ had touched there–

He was sobbing now and slid to the floor, water spraying his body and washing away the blood that continued to drip down his face and body. Plug pulled him off, Plug saved him, Plug was, Plug was–

RICK WAS–!!!

he was hysterical. it felt as if he were dying. everything hurt.

Tunnel vision blurred out the rest of the world around him, deafened his ears to naught but ringing; the center of intense focus directly centered at this one piece of shit in singularity.

When a fist struck Plug in the eye in return, snapping his head to the side, he barely flinched. Pain wasn’t a factor. Retaliation only threw kerosene over the flames of anger, strengthened the violent resolve driving his hands.

Yellowed teeth bared in a strained grimace of wrath, he straddled his opponent and kept driving down the punches mercilessly. It was like he couldn’t stop. No amount of self defensive shielding could save his victim. The more blood that sprayed onto his face in crimson flecklets, the more determined he became to end this fight with Rick y-122 lying in a pool of his own body fluids.

It felt like an eternity had passed when Plug finally came back into himself. The body beneath him was nearly motionless, face swollen to shit and oozing buckets of red from every orifice. Bruises were already forming over both eyes, and the nose was flattened, transforming what had once been an identical face into a sickening deconstruction.

Plug slowly, deliberately brought himself back to his feet. He went to wipe blood away from under his nose, but only managed to steak it across his features like war paint. The occupants of the room remained dead silent where they stood in a distanced half-circle around the brutal scene, frozen in place. The eerie noise of dozens of shower heads all spraying at once bled through the quiet, accompanied by the echo of Rickleys’ hysterical sobbing.

Chest heaving from the exertion he’d just put forth, Rick raised both of his hands readily. He’d hit his offender so hard that the skin of his knuckles had flayed off cleanly, eaten down nearly to the bone. It was hard to tell where his blood began, and the other guys’ ended. “Who th-the FUCK else w-wants to square up with Plug?!”

Nobody made a single sound. Some of his counterparts even took a step back when his eyes passed over them. The bloodied form crumpled on the floor spoke novels about the forces lying just under the surface of a typical Rick exterior.

“Th-that’s what I fucking thought.” He lowered his arms, the malice that had directed his terrifying actions beginning to ebb away. Collecting the blood in his mouth, he spat a glob onto y-122s’ face. “I’m back, bitch. Don’t fuck with me.” He landed a kick to the teeth for good measure, hard enough to knock a few loose.

Rick half-turned to look over his shoulder back at Rickley, who was very clearly wounded and inconsolable. “Get up,” he instructed flatly. If they didn’t move along now, they may lose their window of opportunity to walk out of this without further incident. He took a step back and slipped a hand under Rickleys’ thin upper arm, tugging him up to his feet whether he wanted to go or not. “Get. Up. Now.”

Rickley felt the cold water batter on his numb body as he watched Plug beat 122, and then yell at the others. His voice sounded far, far away.

It became a bit clearer when the man came towards him and began to lift him up. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he resisted weakly before letting him lift him up. He stood up carefully, limping alongside Plug and hanging his head in shame. The blood had all washed away but it didn’t do anything to heal the terror in his heart.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, a trickle of blood trailing down his lips and chin. He was trembling so badly and nearly collapsed when they were near their cell, but made it inside in time to fall onto the concrete and sob. Rickley shoved his face into his hands as his shoulders hunched and he let out a wail of despair.

The crowd parted to allow the duo safe passage through, none of the others opting to put up resistance after witnessing that shitshow. The freezing droplets the two passed under on the way out rinsed the majority of blood off the skin in rivulets, but the experience would stick forever. Their pod of Ricks would remember him laying down that absolute ass beating.

Rick dragged along his cellmate by the arm until they were well out of harms way, refusing to let go in fear that he would slack behind or simply let his legs buckle. He paused only long enough to step into a fresh jumpsuit and bunch the extra fabric around his waist before beelining them both back to the relative safety of their assigned room. At this point, it’d become a mission to complete the task of keeping Rickley out of any more trouble between there to their cell now that he’d been… Outed.

It was really the adrenaline driving his steps with such feverance - he couldn’t feel a thing except a throbbing sensation in his hands, a pressure resting uncomfortably on the side of his face. His body felt like it moved autonomously, clutching Rickleys’ bicep as if he’d float away any second.

Rickley was trembling with intensity, shoulders wracking in emotion under the support of his palm. Reaching the door to their cell, Rick finally unfurled his fingers and released his panicky companion, who promptly fell through the threshold in a fit of hysterics.

The pitiful noises that rose up were painful, exposing weakness; It felt distinctly worse than before.

Stumbling past a curled up, wailing Rickley with a blank stupor written across his face, Rick sat himself down on a bed cot and forced himself to look at his hands. “Fuuuuck.” They were ballooning up, thick crimson lines running from raw knuckles. He swiftly lost interest with self assessment and rested his wrists on his knees so that they hung freely, wet trickling off the tips of his fingers.

Felt good. Felt right to destroy something in his image.

Swallowing in an attempt to rid himself of the taste of iron in his mouth, Rick finally addressed his sobbing roommate. “Rickley. R-Rickley, you- you okay, man?” Of course he wasn’t okay - Rickley was shaken to the bone and distinctly injured, judging by that limp. But Rick had the battle wounds to rival him, wearing his blackening eye and shredded hands as badges of honor. “R-Rickley, listen, l-listen - just, caaaaalm down.”

He gave him a minute before continuing, picking a shard that must be the remnants of a broken tooth out of his skin and flicking it to the floor nonchalantly. “I covered y-you back there. Thrashed that motherfucker.” There was a hint of pride accompanying that recountance. “So now y-you gotta - you gotta calm down a-aaand answer some questions so I can figure out why the - what the fuck happened.“

Rickley stayed huddled in a ball for a while until Plug finally spoke. He lifted his lifeless blue eyes to stare at Plug, and he looked as if the words went right through him. The man sat up slightly and watched him, taking note of his every move. Terrified.

Rickley didn’t really want to talk about anything that happened. It would be hard to speak about it after this, and especially to the gruff looking Rick sitting in front of him.

A broken slur of apologies left Rickley’s mouth and it was nearly never ending. Guilt and shame was dotted clearly in his facial features and voice as he held himself in a stiff position. Between the I’m sorrys and Thank yous, Rickley was near out of breath.

He was too afraid.

He looked at Plug and then back down again, voice quieting softly as he waited for the slurry of questions that Plug was sure to have.

Frowning down at the frightened face of Rickley before him, Rick came to the realization that he was scared of him. Rendered unable to do anything more than sit there, firmly stuck to the floor by the pass of his gaze alone, absolutely rigid with numbing terror.

Oh.

He supposed that he couldn’t blame Rickley for feeling that way after seeing him lose his shit like that, examplify what he was capable of. Even he couldn’t believe how quickly he’d lapsed into violence, reacting to shield his aquaintance like it’d been second nature.

These hands were trashed, each bone from the knuckle to the wrist hairline fractured into oblivion. He could feel the bruising starting to form on his face as his eye gradually swelled shut, barely reacting to the throbbing pain that begun to bite through the shock. Yeah, he’d venture a guess that he must look pretty fucking intimidating right now.

The stumbled out apologies blended clumsily with abstract thanks poured out of Rickley rapid-fire, taking Plug off guard. He regarded Rickley with thinly veiled concern, brow furrowing as the jumbled sentences stretched on. It was like he was desperately trying to appease him, win favor so /he/ wouldn’t be the next to get hurt.

“Rickley,” Plug spoke up firmly, the tone of voice carrying a note of defeat. “Rickley. Stop.” He waved a hand dismissively before hanging his head in frustration, rubbing his good eye and leaving a glistening bloody handprint on his cheekbone. “I-I get it, okay? It’s fine.” He shook his head as if to clear it, feeling even more confused than before. This would be a lot easier if he had a shred of cooperation tossed his way.

Rick felt like there wasn’t much more of this he could take. “Can y-you just chill the fuck out for a sec a-and - and help me?” He was starting to sound less confident, exposing the myriad of emotions hidden underneath his cool exterior. He held out his hands in a gesture of openness. “Please?”

Rickley was traumatized by that event to the point where the aftershocks were debilitating - and frankly, Plug wasn’t exactly feeling stable either. But he had to attain answers, lest he be kept in the dark. “Help me figure out what I-I’ve gotten into, Rickley. C'mon.” All he could do was prod, gently nudge the guy into talking. “Wuh-what’s with the X a-and why is - why was everyone out to get you?”

Rickley didn’t choose to be born in that dimension. He didn’t choose to be unlucky, or traumatized. He just wanted to be as normal as a Rick could be…

He flinched at Plug’s harsher words and he pressed hands to his head, desperately trying to get himself to stop shaking. He needed to answer the questions. He’s going to hurt me he’s going to hurt me he’s goING TO HURT ME HE’S

Rickley slapped himself harshly and then hung his head in silence. “Th-the X? I-it’s m-my dimension l-letter…” he said, gripping his orange jumpsuit tightly and clenching his teeth in pain.

“Morty a-always dies in th-the X d-dimension. M-Miscarriage or i-infant d-death o-or an infertile B-Beth. I’m just… W-We’re just unlucky…”

He sobbed softly into his hands for a few moments before turning his head up. “Th-they hate me. Th-they want me to die. I r-remember th-that Rick. H-he u-used me… h-h-hurt me b-before….”

The resounding echo of flat hand forecefully striking skin was enough to make Rick cringe. It did the trick, though, he saw Rickleys reasoning behind the action against himself - he finally mustered up enough strength to fight through the breakdown and begin speaking.

The pieces began falling into place with every stuttered out string of words. Rick sat still and listened carefully, absentmindedly dragging fingertips across his chin in thought. There was a wealth of information pertaining to other Ricks that he wasn’t aware of, apparently. That kind of thing could happen when you genuinely didn’t give a shit about any of them.

He had a weird feeling that maybe that wasn’t entirely true.

Morty always dies. Rick averted his gaze away for a moment, running stiff fingers through his blue locks. His forearm partially obscured the frown setting itself deeper into his features, a certain dullness that glazed over his eyes. Yeah, sometimes shit happened.

So dimensions of X carried with them an odd series of misfortune befalling present Ricks, and everyone just… Chalked it up to bad luck? There must be some universal constant at play, manifestation of existential law.

He couldn’t help but wonder why Rickley was the first X he’d ever come across - then again, judging based on his current state… Rick could venture some dark guesses pertaining to their fate.

With a moments pause to allow the information to sink in, Rick opened his mouth to speak - but Rickleys’ soft sob interrupted his train of thought. The hunch he’d had about the guy he’d wailed on having some sort of negative history with Rickley was proven true. Admittances of insinuated abuse was enough to make Plug angry all over again, pull the corners of his mouth into an expression of disgust.

“Look, Rickley–” He stopped himself mid sentence, shaking his head in disbelief. Reflecting upon how he’d responded to that situation back there - it’d been so purely instinctual, and it turned out he was fighting off Rickleys’ abuser.

Rick edged off the cot and sunk down to the floor, sitting on the same level as his cellmate. “If i-it makes y-you feel better, th-that guys, uh. Not going to be able to mess w-with you for a while.”

Rickley forced his lowered face to look up at Rick when he spoke, but he did not smile at the comment. After the initial shock would wear off the Ricks would be back to their usual violence towards him, and 122 would definitely seek revenge. Plug couldn’t protect him forever.

He didn’t speak again, save for another pitiful thank you before he scooted back to his side of the room, back pressed against the cold wall. Turquoise hair dark with water splayed around his face and dripped a little, making him shiver even more. He’d get his blanket, but he knew it wouldn’t help.

Rickley wanted to sleep so badly. He was hungry and tired and in desperate need of some form of affection even though he didn’t want to be touched. It was all so confusing.

Although there were still essential questions buzzing around in Ricks’ mind - such as why the fuck Rickleys’ dimension letter was gounged into his back- it seemed like they’d reached the limit on what information could be extracted, for now. Rickley was much more content to quietly cower in the corner than talk anymore. Whatever. He’d given the whole reaching out thing a try.

Day one had been a disaster thus far, and they hadn’t even seen the worst this place had to offer yet. He knew it, and Rickley sure as hell knew it.

Only an idiot would assume that incident wouldn’t draw negative attention their way later. All he’d done was buy time. The display of violence would stretch just so far in their favor before the issue would grow and multiply. “D-don’t thank me.”

As his heartbeat gradually slowed back to normal, the intensity brought on by the battle fading away, Rick begun to feel everything. The overwhelming tiredness that accompanied ache. The heaviness weighing him in place.

Leaning his head back against the wall, he stared up at the single light, squinting until the fluorescence split into beams. The worst part part of this was this itching knowledge that he didn’t have a access to anything that could take the edge off. “I want drugs,” he vocalized flatly, clasping a hand over his forehead with a short, bitter laugh. Existing fully in reality was awful. “I just w-want drugs.“

BZZT, the overhead com crackled to life. ALL R POD RICKS ARE INSTRUCTED TO THE MAIN ROOM, R POD RICKS –

Oh fuck. Plugs’ eyes flicked across the room at his cellmate, jaw set firm and expression grim. Outside the door overlooking the pod room outside, numbers were already gathering before a line of guards. There was no way this didn’t have something to do with him nearly murdering y-122.

“Shit,” he cursed under his breath, pressing hands into his face with a prolonged groan. “Th-they’re looking for me.”

For exactly what /purposes/, Rick didn’t specify, but he had a bad feeling that the consequences would be entirely unpleasant. “I’m - I’m in trouble.” He brought himself to his feet tiredly, forcing a mask of brevity. “Uuugh… l-let’s go get this over with.“ He was expecting nothing less than the worst possible scenario. "Y-you owe me f-for this, big time.”

Rickley watched Plug from the corner in slight fear and a lot of respect. He didn’t understand why the other didn’t want him to thank him but he didn’t say anything against his wishes.

The loud blaring voice startled him and when Plug spoke, the horrible realization gnawed at him.

‘You owe me for this’…

It struck fear into his heart and he stood mechanically, nodded his head with a lifeless submission.

Rickley followed Plug out and stood in terror stricken silence as the other Ricks filed in, shooting angry glances at both of them. It seemed the fear had already worn off now that they knew plug was in for a shit show.

He choked out an apology and kept his head down, twitching and trembling where he stood. What were they going to do to Plug? What was Plug going to do to him?

He was so scared.  
\--

Days in solitary ticked by with agonizing lethargy.

Nothing was ever quite right on the inside of a confinement cell. The passage of hours stretched on for eons, minutes extending impossibly beyond their capability of time. It swiftly became difficult to decipher between the two; everything blended together in the same torturous monotony.

It was /worth it/, he kept trying to tell himself through the maddening silence. Beating the hell out of that guy for Rickleys’ sake was well worth enduring everything he went through over the course of a dozen twenty-four hour cycles. Or so he could hope. The more he dwelled on the subject, the more uneasy he became – but at least he’d put that one piece of shit Rick out of commission, right? Yeah. That made this okay.

Leaving solitary behind on day twelve was, to put it in passive terms, a relief on the psyche. When the guards finally rolled around to take him back to general population, it felt like being ripped out of a sensory deprivation tank, at first overwhelming - It took Plug the better part of twenty minutes to let his eyes adjust to light again, dim florescence searing his retinas. Rick couldn’t remember the last time his legs felt this weak from lack of use, his mind this numb from nothing –

But it was finally over. He’d made the stretch, wearing the restraint inflicted bruises encircling both wrists to show for it.

Bearing nothing but the clothes on his back, an escort of guards walked him through the long prison halls back to R pod. He caught his warped reflection staring back from polished metal doors as he passed, blue hair disheveled and expression set blank, unblinking. Had the circles around his eyes always been that shade of black?

BZZRT. The main entrance alarmed before it swung open with a series of clunks, alerting those inside to his arrival.

Reintroduction to base population didn’t feel like the release it should be. Jumping from a small cage into a bigger one didn’t make him free, it just… gave him a vague structure to base days and nights upon.

And competition. Lots of competition.

Rows of identical eyes set upon him with sudden interest, each moving with bizarre likeness. It was doubtful that there was a single present Rick here who didn’t remember what happened. It was instant recognition on sight.

Striding into the main room, Plug made it a point to ignore the faces upturned in his direction; the only form he was looking for were the hunched shoulders and constant worried expression of his cellmate.

12 days. 288 hours. 17,280 minutes. 1,036,800 seconds.

And every single one of those seconds were spent in searing pain and misery cause by his replacement cellmate while Plug was gone.

It was the guards’ idea of some kind of cooperation training. Making them learn to get along with each other. 3 cots was too much for such a tiny cell. He didn’t know what it would be like when Plug would return.

Rickley stood in the mass of bodies in the recreation hall, the chilling feeling of long, spindly fingers gripping his hip made him tremble. Gamma had a habit of touching him nonstop to show some sort of fucked up dominance. All Rickley felt was a terrifying burning.

It brought his mind back to the nights in the cell with Gamma. He’d just wanted to sleep but the rough hands wouldn’t let him. They made him bleed and cry and beg and come and it was a raw terror that enveloped him every night. Every time they were alone. It had never been this bad.

He was brought back to reality when he felt the grip on his hip tighten painfully. He stared up to the door with reddened, tired eyes. They were decorated with dark circles that looked like bruises; his lips were pink and red and chapped and his skin was sickly pale. He thought he would feel relief with seeing Plug but it just made him tense more.

The fear that Plug wouldn’t save him again because of this– it was burned into the back of his mind. Maybe he’d think he liked it. Rickley was starting to believe it himself, because after awhile it stopped hurting completely and turned into something like pleasure– but he didn’t want to feel it.

It was probably his fault.

Rickley lowered his head back down and he felt Gamma’s grip relax. He chalked it up to him feeling secure in the smaller’s submission. Or something like that.

Half-lidded eyes scanned the crowd with purposeful care, disinterestedly staring directly through anyone who wasn’t his intended target. If Plug were to be judged on physical appearance alone, it looked like he’d been through hell in the lengthy duration he’d been away - which wasn’t entirely far from the truth. The purple marks dotted along his exposed skin proved that much.

Still, the only thing he could seem to think about right out of the gate was to check up on the one and only doppelgänger to date that he’d ever bothered to defend.

It didn’t take long to spot Rickley intermingled with the others. There was this way he held himself that differed from the common carbon copy, thin frame always curled on itself in a posture that made him seem insignificantly small. Ricks’ bleary gaze settled on him, lingering as his features slowly twisted into confusion –

Wait. Who the fuck was that?

There was this overbearing way that this other Rick stood next to Rickley, a smugness in carried frame that made Plugs’ stomach want to turn.

No fucking way.

That nose lain crooked was an irrefutable signature of identity. His own hands had wreaked so much havoc on this guys’ face - it was equally surprising as it was deeply unsettling to see him doing so well after the fact, when his knuckles had just barely started to scar. Bastard guards must’ve run him through the revive, or something.

But that meant – How long had /this Rick/ been here while he’d been stuck in solitary?

This wasn’t good. Ignoring the dread forming in his gut and steeling his reserve, Rick locked on with unshaken focus, making a beeline across the room.

Unconcerned by the consequences of being confrontational, Plug didn’t think twice about stepping up to Gamma toe to toe; Only stopping short within about a foot to make his point. The intention was to inspire a glimmer of fear, force him take a step back; he was looking for a satisfying flinch, any shred of hesitation that would suggest that this guy remembered exactly what he was capable of doing to him.

Regarding his enemy with a newfound hatred, Rick looked Gamma up and down, like he was sizing up prey. The sight of one of his hands resting uncomfortably on Rickleys’ hip envoked a more than subtle hint of disgust that turned into a lip curling snarl. Oh, fuck no.

“Y-you’re looking waaaay too alive for my taste.” He wasn’t fucking around. Ricks’ eyes were piercing, a distict lack of empathy shooting spears through Gamma. Like he couldn’t wait to thrash him all over again, draw some fresh blood to the surface. “Shouldn’t you be, I-I dunno, counting the teeth you have left or s-something?”

Just over his shoulder, he caught sight of a guard watching the scene unfold with hunger, just waiting for a slipup, an opportunity to jump in.

Had to avoid going down on the same charges a second time. With those insults disrespectfully spat in his offenders’ face, Plug nodded at Rickley, a signaling gesture that he should take the opportunity to step away. “Rickley, l-let’s go talk.” Working off of intimidation, he intended to foremost separate him from this fucky situation, whatever sick shit was going on here. “Somewhere else.”

Honestly, Gamma wasn’t nervous at all. Plug looked like a mess with the decoration of bruises littering his body. Plug was scum compared to him. And there was no way in hell he’d let him have Rickley back this easily.

Gamma gathered a pit of spit and sprayed it at Plug, his brown eyes burning like fire. “You ain’t shit.”  
He tightened his grip around the shaking Rick next to him and pulled him back from Plug.

Rickley was trembling worse now, his pale eyes flicking up to look at Plug. When he attempted to follow the man, the grip tightened harshly and he winced. He’d have to beg…

He looked up at Gamma and took a deep breath. “Please… just let us speak… I w-will tell him of th-the new arrangements… s…sir…”

It seemed to please Gamma a few moments later and he forced Rickley in for a slick kiss before pushing him at Plug.  
“Don’t take too long,” he growled, turning to walk a few feet away.

The glob of thick spit flew through the air and hit him square in the eye, which instinctually snapped closed upon contact. It didn’t help - the warm saliva was a vicerally sickening weight against his lashes, dripping down over a cheekbone.

Reaching up with calculated movements, Rick swept two fingers along his socket to clear his eyelid of slimy debris. The sheer disrespect of that action sent Plug for a whirl; he could feel numbing rage creeping into his limbs.

They had a score to settle.

If he could have swung on Gamma then and there in the heart of the rec room, he would’ve. The only thing holding his fists back from exacting revenge were attentive overseers tracking his every move. They’d be more than happy to drag him back to solitary for another goddamn dozen days.

They’d have to put this aside until a more appropriate time to duke it out. “Cute.” He flicked his wet fingers back at Gammas’ face, voice laced with stinging venom.

Thiiiiis motherfucker.

Daydream thoughts of mutilation were thrown off track by this - this strange tone arising from Rickley who still stood too close, too visually uncomfortable;

Begging to be set free from the others’ oppressive clutches, exchanging this fucking gutterally wrenching, clearly forced thing in return –

And that was the moment in time where Plug suddenly realized that he was absolutely, not a doubt in his mind, going to kill this guy.

The burning in the back of his throat felt like bile, choking off the breath in his chest. This was wrong. It was like watching skin being peeled off flesh exposing something unnatural, disgustingly /putrid/ that shouldn’t exist.

By the time Rickley was released from whatever /the fuck/ that had been and shoved in his direction, it felt like he was rooted in place by hate alone. He couldn’t take his attention off Gammas’ face, eyes clouded by malicious darkness radiating in waves from under a low brow.

“Piece of sh-shit,” he snapped back shortly, upper lip twitching. As hard as he tried not to let it get to him, it just -

Brought this overwhelming anger to the surface that he couldn’t quite repress. Oh man, he was this close to snapping all over again.

“C'mon, R-Rickley,” he urged along with a growl, refusing to break eye contact with the back of Gammas’ head while he walked away, throwing an arm over his cellmates’ shoulder protectively. He wasn’t sure why he did it, he just - it felt right, after that.

Plug spun Rickley away from the third party swiftly, tucked under the weight of his arm. He was shaking, trembling with barely contained rage.

“Mmmmotherfucker, son of a bitch,” he hissed curses under his breath in regards to Gamma, struggling to deal with what had transpired before him without losing it completely.

They didn’t have a lot of options for private places to talk. Ricks’ arm loosened as they approached the door to their cell, running his free hand through his hair in a clear expression of repressive stress. “W-what the fuck happened, R-Rickley?” The strain in his voice was thick. “W-what the fuck was that?”

Rickley flinched at the arm around his shoulder. It did nothing to comfort him. He walked quietly next to Plug before stopping when they stood in front of their cell, face falling as the other man looked to him. He could picture Plug’s eyes right now… accusing, disgusted, hateful… all towards him. After seeing that, he knew Plug had taken him here to hurt him.

“I-I-I’m sorry…” he hissed softly as the numbing ache in his chest grew harder to ignore. Rickley’s clear blue eyes searched the ground, shoulders bunching together as he tried to hold in a sob that threatened to surface.

Would Plug notice the blood on the thin, worn sheets?

Quietly, he shuffled in his space before attempting to open him mouth, shaking to get the words out in a harsh stutter. “Th-they moved h-h-him in th-the cell w-with us. He’s b-been in our r-room since you l-left…” he said, choking on the words. He couldn’t say more.

Shame enveloped his body and his face was red with it. He’d never felt so dirty in his life. He tried to get clean but couldn’t scrub hard enough. His body under the jumpsuit was raw and dry from ice cold water and a bar of soap that was dappled with blood.

He refused to look up at Plug, afraid of his disappointed gaze.

It would take only the truly unobservant to lack the realization that was something phenomenally off.

It was a knotted feeling residing uncomfortably in the dead center of his being, an anchoring weight of heavy dread that hit upon the instant they stepped into the threshold of their cell. The inside wasn’t the same as it had been when he’d left, now overly crowded by a third bunk.

It couldn’t be.

The weak syllables that Rickley managed to force out confirmed the worst possible outcome of the situation. It felt like his heart tightened under pressure, trapped inside of painfully taut ribs.

“Wh… what?”

They’d moved into the same room, spending those… entire twelve days…?

“Rickley, I-I’m…” What the fuck could he even begin to say? His bewildered gaze flicked across the thin mattresses, catching how unkempt Rickleys’ was in particular with nauseating attention to detail. It felt like he was going to be sick.

Raising both hands to his head, Plug pressed the meat of his palms into his forehead, fingers pushing back unruly locks of hair. “Sh-shit.”

This was his fault. If he’d either managed to land a fatal blow or avoid attention from the fight entirely, this… This diabolical arrangement never would have taken place. It’d only become worse by a hundredfold through his direct action alone. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. “I-I thought I’d put him in a-aaa fucking coma! I-I d-didn’t…”

He never thought anything on this scale of atrocity would occur. Not when the last he’d seen of Gamma had been an image of debilitation on the shower room floor, stewing in his own washed out blood.

To lend even a moment of thought to what must’ve happened in his absence made Plugs’ skin crawl with a discomfort that made it feel foreign. It made him so blatantly enraged that he swore he could barely see straight.

At the end of it all, the least deserving had been the one to suffer the most.

The hardened expression on Ricks’ face began to crumple under pressure. Twelve days of confinement only to return to this. His brow furrowed together in concern, mouth hanging slightly agape as he struggled to find words. Taking a step forward, he gingerly reached out to touch fingertips to his companions’ shaking shoulder – he didn’t know what he was doing, much less what /pseudo comfort/ to offer.

“Rickley. Holy shit, I-I’m fucking sorry.”

God, that’s all he could do, wasn’t it? Make people close to him upset and hurt. He didn’t know what to make of Plug’s half finished statements and when the man apologized with such despair in his voice, Rickley managed to look up in confusion.

His tired eyes searched the man’s face and he shook his head slowly, deliberately.  
“I-it’s not your fault. H-he would’ve f-found a way to… H-he would’ve found a w-way, a-anyway.”

The gentle fingers on his shoulder felt like a hot fire and he flinched but did not pull away. Old habits resurfaced and his submission was taking over. He lowered his head, trembling body desperate to get away from any form of touch. It just… /hurt/.

“P-please don’t hurt him, Rick,” was his only plea, soft and begging. Not because he wanted to spare Gamma of harm, but he knew that Gamma would take his anger out of him, or even worse, hurt Plug. It was the least the former drug lord could do…

That… that wasn’t true at all.

How very like Rickley, to forgive so unquestionably for the sake of avoiding further conflict. This guys’ self esteem was just… decimated beyond measure. Entirely nonexistent.

Nobody in their right frame of mind should be this accepting of being held hostage. Especially not a Rick. This was some stockholm syndrome shit, or maybe -

Maybe it was already so devoid of hope inside these prison walls, maybe Rickley was so beat down already that anything flew.

The hand on Rickleys’ shoulder only served to pressure this primal reaction out of him, worse than a flinch - Striking layers deeper than that. Plugs’ hand recoiled like he’d been bitten, arm slowly fell back to his side. It hadn’t done anything to help.

He was at a loss. Was this what it looked like when somebody /broke/? A mirror reflection recoiling against the slightest touch, retreating into himself…

The stress was rushing to his head, jumbling the thoughts that he’d barely begun to recollect. Coming straight out of solitary and being thrust into another environment he had to struggle to compartmentalize wasn’t easy.

Sinking down into the edge of the cot across from Rickley, so close they were almost touching, Plug momentarily buried his face in his bruised hands. This twisted course of events would never have come into existence without that spectacular fuckup of a choice to leave Gamma breathing. “I sh-should’ve killed that bastard while I had the chance.”

He kicked the back of a heel against the leg of his seat, the metal frame reverberating. He hissed through his teeth, bouncing a leg repetitively in agitation. No matter how much he rubbed his eyes, he couldn’t seem to clean away the seared afterimage of Gamma and Rickley off his retinas. “F-fuck - if I’d known that he’d be out here w-while I was strapped down t-to a fucking table–”

The fingers dug into hair, bunching it up in his fists in a fit of frustration. Don’t think about it. Don’t.

“Oho!” Ricks’ unstable demeanor suddenly broke into a dark chuckle as he snapped his head up. “Oh, I’m - I’m gonna hurt him.“ The faintest hint of a malicious grin began to pull back the corners of his mouth. He balled up one of his bony hands into a stiff fist, proudly displaying purpleish, freshly healed over knuckles. The closer in detail one would look, the more mottled the marks on his skin became. "I-I’m gonna bash his sh-shitty face a-against something until I see brains.”

Rickley sat across from him with burning shame keeping his voice at bay. Plug was suddenly explosive, and Rickley’s heart bolted into his throat. He let out a startled noise and he practically flew back into the wall that his bed was set against.

“Prime– f-fuck I m-m-mean Plug! D-dont do that! Th-they will hurt you, I c-can't… f-f-fuck…!” Rickley pressed his face into his hands and tried to contain his sobs, body trembling.

Rickley threw himself off of the cot and went to the corner, thin hands pressing against the concrete wall. He was shaking so badly before he suddenly, nearly exploded.

Rickley let out a broken scream, something akin to a sob. He smashed his hands against the wall, heart smashing into pieces. Blood began to spray as bruises formed and swelled on his hands.

Moments later he slammed his head against the wall and sobbed and screamed more, soon falling to the floor and convulsing horribly. Rickley’s breathing was erratic. He was so out of it.

In all honesty, Plug didn’t give a damn if he’d come out of this hurt. “I-it doesn’t matter!” All he could think about was wiping that smug look off Gammas’ face for good, break him into unidentifiable pieces –

But he hadn’t meant to scare Rickley like that.

It was too late to take back the intensity of emotion that made his counterpart jump back with haste, as if he were the one expecting an uppercut to the jaw. Wait - why did he call him by a different name?

Must’ve been the forefront of deep seeded anger in his demeanor, or the pique of agression in his own tone accompanied by the image of readied fists. Whatever it was, it struck his weakened counterpart right down the center and split his psyche in two.

A hand smashed into the solid concrete wall with a dull thud of flesh against stone. Oh god, the screaming.

Leaping up from his perch to his feet in an instant, he stood over his roommate collapsed in a heap - brought down by his own self inflicted actions alone. It was akin to watching a bird fly into a window in an attempt to free itself, crushing wings against the pane. “Rickley!”

The shock embedded in his voice did nothing to match the scale of disbelief playing out across his features. All he could bring himself to do was look down at this - this broken Rick and see the worst of everything.

“S… stop.” It came out shaken, lacking usual confidence. This was too much.

Plug did the only thing that he could think of - he bent down to one knee and clutched his hands on either side of Rickleys’ shoulders to steady his erratic movements. “Hey!” He gave him a light shake, trying to jerk him back into reality. “RICKLEY, I-I’m here, I-I’m not going anywhere–” It wasn’t his intention to leave him again, throw him to the wolves. “B-but if you- if you don’t stop, s-someone’s gonna hear you a-aaand-!” There wasn’t a shred of anger in his eyes, just anxiety and concern. “Th-they’re gonna take us both away, Rickley.” He was begging him. “Y-you gotta stop.”

Rickley’s sobs became quieter and he curled up slightly, blood welling on his brow and dripping onto the dirty floor. He heard what Plug was saying but he couldn’t quell his shaking sobs completely. “I-I-I’m s-s-s-sorry,” he said quietly, quivering and curling into a tight ball.

He looked especially thin like that. He probably hadn’t eaten in a few days. His body was aching terribly. “I’m j-just so t-t-tired,” he whimpered, lifting his bloody head.to look at the other man, tears streaking his face.

“I-I’m scared,” he mumbled, “I-I d-dont want it… H-He’s not g-gonna stop…” he hiccuped and moved to practically cling to Plug, shivering. He was cold. Sick. Tired. Hungry. It felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

“H-he’ll kill you… he’ll k-kill you R-Rick…” Sobs wracked his body.

“I-I dont want you to d-die, p-please, don’t die R-Rick, I’m s-scaaaared…..!!!”

“Look, Rickley, l-listen –“ He clumsily stumbled over syllables, as if the right words to say were evading him. The stuttered apology came out so desperate. “I-i-it’s okay.”

It really wasn’t. The blood pooling on Rickleys’ brow was running thickly from the gaping gash he’d wrought open on his own forehead. Head wounds always tended to bleed to an exceeding degree, but he’d… really done a number on himself this time. And for what?

For the sake of - for the pursuit of some sort of fucked up escape? Trying to knock himself unconscious, or kill his brain cells away so he didn’t feel this –

This overwhelming emotion boiling to a breaking point just beneath the top layers of flesh, welling over between the firm grip of his hands. Pouring out in buckets like those tears. God, this guy was a mess. “Hey, hey–”

The words were choked off prematurely by sudden contact. The way Rickley drew himself in against his chest was unexpected enough to incite an initial reaction of gasp and recoil. In fact, Plug outright flinched, holding his arms away as if to avoid the others’ grip, despite that he was already held in a firm vice. Oh shit, oh shit.

Rickley had him in a full on embrace. As awkward as it may be to endure, he hesitated to act either to move away or reciprocate; Because this was a cry for help, desperation seeking any mode of comfort it could find. It just so happened that he was the only one there.

Rick drew in a breath that swelled in his lungs before he released it, seeming to recenter himself on the issue. There was only one of them who would be actually capable of getting their shit together, and it was going to have to be him.

“J-Jesus, Rickley - I-I’m not gonna die.” Rick took his counterpart by the shoulders and pushed him back from the shelter he’d found huddled by his torso, making sure to create and maintain eye contact. This was a matter to be conducted in civility, not hysteria. “Now y-you just - you calm down a-aaaand listen to me.”

Here it goes. Now or never. “First of all: Nobody’s taken me down yet, a-a-and they sure as fuck aren’t now - I’d be damned if a, another stupid pRicksoner gets me.” He flattened a hand and pointed the tips of his fingers at Rickley. “So I’m not gonna die, a-and neither are you.”

Rick sat back on his heels, looking forlorn but maintaining a sense of self assuredness that he hoped would rub off. “Listen. Th-that guys gonna stop messing w-with you, one way or another.” The threat still stood, but this time standing with more cautious thought. “But until I figure something out we - all we gotta do is- we gotta stick together out th-there. Y-you and me.” Like true partners on the inside would do.

“‘Cause it’s just gonna be Rick and Rickley. Rick and Rickley a-aaaa hundred years maximum security prison.”

Plug’s firm grip on Rickley’s shoulders brought him back slowly, and the shaking man took in deep, steadying breaths. His mind was still swimming with terrifying thoughts but he managed to stay in contact with Plug through the haze. A lot of things hurt right now. But the nervous yet reassuring composure of the other Rick calmed him slowly and stopped his frantic, scared cries.

Rickley listened and rubbed his hands together nervously, face contorting as he bit his lip harshly, trying to stay focused. He then realized what harrowing effect this must have on Plug… and guilt manifested into a dead weight in his chest. He heaved a tired sigh and let his body go semi-limp.

One hundred years, Rick and Rickley.

It felt new.  
Something he’d never thought about.  
A friendship. Something to hold onto. Something tangible. Something that wouldn’t leave.

A slow nod was Rickley’s response, as his voice was wrecked from crying so much. Cloudy blue eyes looked at his counterpart in a painful understanding. He’d have to calm down. No matter how much it hurt, and no matter how scared he was. No one gave a damn here, except for Plug, and Plug wasn’t an endless stream of support. He had his own problems, too.

Rickley finally let his gaze down and he felt his body go heavy. Slowly, he moved to lie on his cot, gently removing Plug’s strong, scabbed hands from his shoulders.

“thank you,” he rasped out.

Whatever he’d done, it’d worked.

Granted, it took a few trying moments for his words of reason to sink in and the mindless panic to ebb away, but Rickley finally started to come around. There was an element of mental clarity that broke through the anxiety, a newfound reserve that steadied itself out. Oh, thank fuck.

That had been a close call. It was hard to believe that he’d actually pulled off bringing Rickley back down to earth, considering how dealing with shit like this was really starting to fuck with his own sense of stability, but – It all turned out okay.

“There, th-that’s - thaaaaat’s better.“ Although his reassurances came out with calculated confidence, the words were carried on a sigh to rival the crushing exhaustion that Rickley expressed through body language.

The expression of relief that washed over the entirety of Ricks’ person was a clear indication of how genuinely worried he’d been - Who knew how far this could’ve spiraled out of control? There were serious risks that came into play when showing this breed of weakness, especially when everyone held captive within these walls ran purely off of survival instinct and projected self loathing. It was a miracle that Rickley had managed to survive at all in his absence.

“I-it’s just gonna be Rick and Rickley just- just runnin’ around,” he continued off his tangent, “A hundred years Rick and Rickley trying to break out of prison dot com.”

It was interesting to think about how incredibly unricklike this guy was - the second that he started addressing him as if he would, say, a Morty, everything got better. No more tears, no more cries. All it took was a little compassion, a nudge in the right direction. “Stickin’ together, watching each others’ backs, Rick and Rickley aaaall the time.”

Despite everything opposing them as a collective, their shared enemies and shitty living situation, Rick almost felt like they were making progress.

Pushing himself up off the floor, Rick took it upon himself to sit on the edge of Rickleys’ cot where he’d chosen to lie. “Huurgh,” he groaned into hands cupped over his face, muffling his own sounds of stress. Woo boy, what a trip.

“So l-listen to me, R-Rickley–” He lifted his head, turning to look down at his companion. “If you stick w-with me, Rickley, we- we’re gonna accomplish great things.” It was hard to tell if he really meant it, or was bullshitting to the endth degree - but it sounded right.

“It’s two against one, us against them, Rickley - the chances are in our favor if we keep it together. But y-you gotta help me out so we can – Til we can figure out a way to break outta here.”

Rickley knew it was going to be hard, and honestly he was terrified, but he could feel the slight dip in the cot from Plug’s weight and he calmed.

The words had a ring to them and it made Rickley feel some sort of belonging. As he laid on the cot, head pounding with an unceasing pain, Rickley watched Plug’s face as it moved in emotion.

“W-will we g-get out?” he asked quietly, curling up a little, bruised eyes heavy and tired. “Wh-when we get out, can we l-leave the Citadel? F-forever? L… leave..”

/We/ was the key word there.  
There was some sort of connection between them that wouldn’t be broken easily. At least not for Rickley.

“When we get out w-we… we can go e-everywhere… they broke m-m-my portal gun– do you have one? D-do you think that we could make one? I-I dont remember much a-about how to do it.. I-I dunno…” he was rambling off in ideas in hopes that they’d be leaving soon.

“Shit yeah, w-we’ll get out.” That much was definite. It just had to happen. There was no sustainable way they could survive long term in here - not at this rate. Captivity really wasn’t befitting for their kind.

“I-I’ll let you in on a-aaa little secret, R-Rickley.” He glanced at the door as if to ensure that nobody else was in earshot before continuing, proceeding with the confirmation that they were alone. “I-It wasn’t in uh, in /R pod/, but I - I’ve been through here before.” This particular prison system, he meant. “B-back when th-those Council bastards locked me up f-for –”

He cut himself off short with a deepening frown. Well. That tidbit of information was probably best left without being said. It wouldn’t stand with much importance against the point he was trying to bring about, anyway. “Look, i-if I’ve gotten out before, what makes y-you think I can’t do it again? Huh?”

Of course, there was no need to show any hint that he was stretching the truth; It was arguably better for the both of them if Rickley could be allowed to think that breaking out was an easily achievable feat. Looking at this under a realistic light, escape and evasion seemed damn near impossible.

But he’d take a gamble at those odds over being complacent here for the rest of their miserable lives. Anything would be an improvement from this.

Could they leave the Citadel? Rick stifled a laugh at the inane inquiry - why would they ever want to return? “Buddy, if w-we’re lucky, neither one of us w-will ever have to deal with a-aaaany fuckin’ Ricks, ever again.”

Reaching up to rub a palm over the back of his head, Rick sucked in air through his teeth – Oh man, he wasn’t sure about constructing a portal gun from scratch just out of random prison scraps. “L-look, I’ll be honest here,” he began indecisively, “IIIII’ve fried a, uh, shitload o-of brain cells snorting klax’ and sh-shooting up and, uh…” He made a quick glance down at his own arms, curling his fingers so that the muscles in his forearms tensed. The veins there were all blown out and scarred beyond recognition. “M-man, do I wish I-I had some of th-that shit.”

Plug shook his head as if to clear it, returning to the main focus of conversation. “But I-I mean, maybe.” Thoughts congregated beneath a lowered brow, frayed ideas coming together. “Maybe I can scrape together a portal gun i-if we go real medieval on that shit a-aaand avoid cell raids.” They had to account for all their dangers. “Like - like using a potato a-as a power source or some dumb shit th-the assholes upstairs wouldn’t think of, I don’t know.” Their limited materials would present an issue.

“We gotta figure it out, R-Rickley. But I need help.” He needed cooperation as a team effort. “I-I need eyes to look for th-the security gaps we can slip through and - and shit. We’re Ricks!” Plug threw out his arms theatrically. “We’re fucking geniuses, Rickley, a-and together? W-we can get out of here.”

Plug’s enthusiasm made him feel as if they’d truly get out. Even though the odds were stacked against them both.

Rickley felt exhausted, though, and his response was merely a hum and a nod. It felt as if things were looking up for them–

But the third cot in the room, haphazardly thrust between the original two, stood as an overbearing shadow over them both. There was a buzz of doors and the scraping sound of the intercom voice calling out for curfew.

Gamma’s tall, menacing form appeared in the doorway and the door was slammed shut behind him, clunky locks clicking and moving lazily. Fuuuuck.

Rickley’s mood dropped. Clouded eyes trailed up to his brown ones, and he curled into himself, fear broiling in his belly. He pulled the thin, stained sheets over his boney frame and cowered. He pressed himself against the far edge of the cot as if he’d disappear.

Gamma snorted and moved to sit on his own cot, lanky yet strong form towering to Rickley. 6’6”, strong, lean, and with a past dotted with violent crimes– Gamma was terrifying, to say the least.

“Evening, ladies.”

Talking up his partner was really a double edged sword. Every encouragement was half-empty, bringing with it a sinking feeling that was directly correlated to an undeniable sense of self doubt. Clawing their way out of this hellhole would be a tricky stunt. It would take time, and a whole lot of personal suffering. If it was even a reachable goal whatsoever.

Thing was, it was worth bullshitting over. Even if it didn’t do much to lighten Rickleys’ spirits, much less his own.

The speakers crackling to life above them was an unwelcome invasion on their moment of peace. The grating announcement was overtly harsh on the ears, an ever present reminder of the lowness of their place. The two of them stood as nothing but pawns to be ordered around, shoved together in spaces too small to maintain sanity.

The rumbling of a hundred thick steel doors closing and firmly locking simultaneously was eerie. Rick swore he could feel the vibrations of moving mechanics below his bare feet.

A tall shadow cast from the doorway drew his line of sight to attention, eyes gradually narrowing to a fierce glare. Great. This piece of shit.

The weight of Rickley shifted on the cot behind him, as if positioning himself to hide under the false shelter of a sheet. No matter how much Rick wanted to forget it, the invasive imagery from earlier wouldn’t leave the forefront of his mind; Gammas’ controlling demeanor, Rickleys’ terrified compliance.

Seeing his face again, crooked nose and all, just pissed him off.

This Rick carried himself with disgustingly smug confidence, despite the fact that he’d gotten his ass absolutely thrashed last time they’d been left alone together. Cocky asshole. He probably found satisfaction with the fact that only one of them had been punished with solitary.

And intimidating Rickley with his predatory presence. In a move of brevity, Rick sat up straight and slid over to the center of the cot, positioning himself instinctually as a buffer between them. He took up too much space on purpose, tilting his head to regard Gamma with a sneer.

“I-I’m surprised y-you stepped in here, y-y'know, willingly,” he remarked with a put-down tone, insinuating that Gamma should be scared. “Nice nose. Looks l-like shit. Duh-didn’t you get enough the first time around?”

“Yknow, it would be a lot easier if you would just learn who’s in charge here, you know?” Gamma snorted, rolling his eyes easily and leaning against the wall. “Now if I were you, I’d lay down my little head and go to sleep. And mind your own fucking business.”

Quiet, Rickley was shivering behind Plug and crying quietly, voice shaking as he begged Plug to leave it. He was tired, and he wanted to sleep. Not like Gamma would let him, anyway.

Gamma wasn’t happy with this, really. He looked at Plug with a bitter flower and stood over him, waiting for him to move.

“Get to your own goddamn cot, Plug Rick.”

Rickley moved a shaky hand to push Plug softly, urging him off if his cot. The shivering man didn’t want him to go– but he knew it would be best. He was crying harder now.

There were a lot of things that Plug Rick might consider himself, but an easy pushover definitely wasn’t one of them.

That shoddy attempt to intimidate him out of his position of guardianship was ineffective, to say the least. It would’ve been laughable if not for the seriousness, the threat of altercation. Gamma was under some sort of impression that he’d shy away at the first sign of confrontation, give in at the first push; And that simply wasn’t what was going to happen.

Especially not when it was becoming undeniably, crystalline clear exactly what his intentions were. Through all the crippling apathy and self loathing in the multiverse, Rick couldn’t stomach that kind of gutturally repulsive violence.

It was thoughtless, wrong. If Rickley couldn’t bring himself to defend himself like a Rick, than it was up to him to set this shit straight.

Plug glared up at Gamma fearlessly, nails digging into the cot frame. Yeah, he’d move alright - over his fucking dead body.

“Wuh-why the fuck don’t you go to your own cot, huh?” His lips curled back in a snarl, body posture turning defensive. The situation was becoming standoffish and tense, and it reflected in the way Plug carried himself.

“Three beds m-motherfucker, pick one - since y-you wanted to room with m-me so fucking bad a-after what I did to you, y-you dumb fuck.” No mercy. Plug was going for blood with every slip of a sharp tongue.

“B-back off,” he instructed harshly as he rose to his feet, taking on a readied stance. He stood a few inches shorter than his opponent, and somehow managed to look like a bigger mess than the guy who’s face got smashed - but he’d square with him. No hesitation, no regret. “O-o-or I’ll break down the rest of y-your paper mache ass facial structures ’t-til you’re so fucked up th-that everyone calls you the fugly Rick.”

Gamma was /pissed/.

He snarled at Plug and then promptly turned to the bed stuck between Plug and Rickley’s. “I’ll take this one then, you fucking psycho..” he bit, strong, calloused hands pulling him up by his jumpsuit and thrusting him away from Rickley.

Rickley was hiding behind Plug, quivering and staring at Gamma in fear.

Being manhandled wasn’t high on the list of things Plug appreciated.

On their last physical encounter, he’d gotten the jump on Gamma - never alotting him the time or opportunity to test his capabilities. That was why Plug was taken so off guard by the strength behind the push, eyes widening and arms flailing to steady himself on the fallback.

A surge of anger welled up in Rick from head to toe, barely contained only by a powerful sense of self control. Another full on fight would surely send him right back to punishment, and preventing a second trip to solitary was pretty high on Plugs’ priorities at the moment. Not just for himself, but for the sake of Rickley.

But he wouldn’t let it slide. Not without outlining some explicit terms.

Rick clenched his teeth and deliberately pointed a finger at Gamma, nearly shaking. “Don’t. Fucking. Touch me.”

It was a warning, and a firm one at that. “L-let me dumb th-this down into words you’ll understand.” An insult to intelligence, a low blow. Plug didn’t fuck around when it came to opposition.

“Don’t fucking mess w-w-with either of us–” He pointed back at cowering Rickley animatedly, including him into the demand. “O-or this psycho is gonna tear you to shreds.”

All this yelling was fucking with Rickley’s head. It was honestly terrifying and he was caught in the middle of it. He let out a soft wail in protest to the fight, shoulders shuddering. He just wanted it to stop. The bruises ached.

Gamma had to restrain himself from smacking the small Rick on the bed. God he was fucking /annoying/.

He figured he’d let the Plug Rick have a little fun with his threats. Gamma was truly the one in control here, but that’s alright. He’d let the guy have a little fun.

“Fine, fuck you, do whatever Y-You want, asshat,” he spat, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

Even though he was putting up a serious defense against his abuser, this argument - this standoff battle of wills with this asshole was…

This was scaring Rickley.

The weak sound that rose out of him seemed to immediately spur irritation in Gamma. It was written all over his face; The more than subliminal hatred and disgust only tightened the knot in Ricks’ gut. Plug stiffened, as if ready to pounce the second that a wrong move was made. All he’d have to do is step a little closer, dare put a hand on Rickley, and he’d go off like a bomb.

“Y-yeah, that’s w-what I thought,” Plug sneered back authoritatively, the tenseness in his shoulders unwinding. “Y-y-you worthless piece of fucking sh–”

The brutal string of insults was interrupted by a thunderous pounding on their door that nearly startled Plug out of his own skin. “QUIET DOWN IN THERE!” A guard on the other side commanded. After a few seconds of relative silence the footsteps moved away - a close call with them wasn’t a good sign. At least they’d managed to avoid being poked with their electric baton prods.

In the shadow of darkness that enveloped their cell, Plugs’ eyes still transfixed on Gamma intensely. This was far from resolved.

Three really was a crowd. This cramped roommate situation wasn’t sustainable, and he just - he had a bad feeling about Rickley and Gamma being so close.

“R-Rickley, hey -” Plug lowered his voice to a whisper as he sat down on the edge of Rickleys’ cot. If they stuck together, they’d have the advantage of safety in numbers. “Scoot over.”

Fear sparked hotly in his chest when the banging began, and he pressed his face in his hands. It wasn’t long before Gamma laid down, though, and Rickley felt a familiar dip in the uncomfortable bed. The voice, gruff from years of smoking, was comforting.

Rickley turned to Plug, restraining himself from hugging him tightly. It would be… too weak. And Plug didn’t enjoy close contact.

Though Rickley craved some form of gentle touch.

Silently, Rickley moved over and allowed the man to stretch out a bit further on the cot. There wasn’t much room to sleep. But Rickley had a feeling he wouldn’t be doing much sleeping that night anyway.

“Thank you..” he whispered, nearly inaudible to even Plug. He was so tired…

Things were starting to quiet down. The relative silence was broken by only the creaking of the rickety cot as both he and Rickleys’ weight put strain upon it.

Gamma certainly looked like he was much more willing to simply go to sleep than try anything fucky at the risk of engaging in a fight, but Plug knew better than to let his guard down. Their unwelcome cellmate wasn’t to be trusted, even for a spare second. Crazy shit could always happen in the dead hours.

The appreciation of accompaniment in Rickleys’ demeanor was apparent even through the pitch blackness of night; it was a relief to have Gamma kept at bay, sheltered by another body. Friends on the inside were hard to come by, and Rickley, he… He needed this protective company more than anyone.

Plug tried to make himself at least marginally comfortable, but the bed wasn’t built for two people. It was okay, though. He’d make do. After all, he’d been through worse.

Besides, if it weren’t for the cage of the prison, the enemy at their side and the orange jumpsuits, this might be… This might’ve been kind of nice.

Lying next to his friend wasn’t entirely unpleasant. It wasn’t like they were intentionally smashed together like this, it wasn’t weird – It was just okay. Plug stared up at the cieling unblinkingly, cushioning the back of his head with a folded arm.

Rickleys’ whisper was so hushed that if Ricks’ ear weren’t right next to his mouth, he would never have heard the thanks. In return, he let out a tired sigh. “D-don’t worry about it,” he rasped quietly, gently bumping the back of a bruised hand against Rickleys’ arm as if to say, I’ve got you. “Just - just go to sleep.”

This night was going to feel long. Plug didn’t think he’d sleep a wink.

Just go to sleep? It wouldn’t be easy. They both knew that. The 12 days had been long and hard and painful without Plug. Rickley was comforted by his presence, yes, and the gentle reassurance he showed make him calmer but… Honestly he was still terrified of what might happen if he fell asleep.

But it happened nearly two hours later, his body giving in to sleep, exhausted eyes finally closing. Yes, he was crying silently when he finally went under but it was okay. It was all okay.

Dreams made him thrash.

Night terrors that would turn something sweet into terror.

He was sobbing in his sleep and it echoed in the cell. This was not good.

It was enough to recouperate for a while, lying still and calm in the rare few hours of peace that took place overnight. Over the passage of time, Rick felt his eyelids get heavier and slowly fall, breathing falling into rhythm with the smaller Rick almost pressed to his side…

He hadn’t even realized that he’d actually fallen asleep until he was jolted awake by a violent blow driven into the side of his ribs. “A-ah ow!” Plug yelped instinctually, blindly flailing an arm as if to strike out at an attacker from above;

But as consciousness finally began to overcome the fuzzy comfort of sleep, eyes snapped wide open, he realized that the hit had come from Rickley.

The force behind that unexpected push had damn near thrown him off the cot they were sharing. He had to grip the side to keep him from tumbling off the edge, or worse - bumping into Gamma.

“W-what the f-fuck?” Plug blurted out indignantly, voice tinged by a note of genuine hurt as he rubbed gingerly at his side. That would leave a bruise. “R-Rickley, w-what…”

He was… he was full on sobbing at the top of his lungs. It was only becoming more uncontrolled and violent, and he could see the dim light from outside reflecting on tears streaming from closed eyes. Was he- was he asleep?

Plug sat up on an elbow, brow furrowing in deep concern. “H-hey, Rickley–” He reached out and touched a flat hand gently to his quaking shoulder, giving him a light shake. “Holy shit, somebody’s gonna hear you – Are-are you okay?”

Oh God no, was is Prime? Maybe Gamma? He couldn’t tell. The hand in real life manifested into his dream into one that burned and ran up a bare, scarred arm to pull at his collar bone. And suddenly it felt as if there were hands all over him, ripping him apart and pressing inside of him–

In reality, it was just a gentle touch and a concerned friend.  
Rickley screamed again and lashed out with a clawed hand, though his fingernails were bitten down to the flesh and barely nubs. His other hand flew down to his own abdomen as he howled, the phantom pain of a horrible memory reliving itself spiraling the man into agony.

“I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to I don’t want to”

There wasn’t time to react fast enough to move out of the way.

The scream rung out against the solid concrete walls, loud enough for their entire floor to hear his disparaging wail. It was right in Plugs’ ear, and he flinched against the offensive screech; the clawing hand shot out at lightening speed, and -

Rickleys’ set of short nails hit their target and raked down one side of Plugs’ face, pulling at the soft purple skin under an eye and leaving angry red marks in their wake from eye socket to chin.

Expecting a second swing, or maybe just out of reaction against the perpetrated attack, Rick scrambled to distance himself. He pushed himself back, kicking his legs to propel him into the next cot over where Gamma slept, effectively shoving him nearly off of his cot. There was no way that didn’t wake up, but Plug was far more preoccupied with his new injuries to care.

“Wuh…” Plug clapped a hand to his burning cheek, mouth hanging agape in shock and blue eyes focused on Rickley with shaken questioning. He didn’t understand why. The searing lines brought back vague memories from before, intentional harm set against him–

“Y-you… you hurt me.” The pain in his tone suggested that scratch had done more to damage his feelings than his skin, but –

Oh god, the screaming.

Plugs’ breath caught in his chest upon witnessing the self defensive maneuver, the desperate begging;

It was trauma resurfacing. He didn’t know what went wrong or where, but Rickleys terror was infectious.

He finally found his voice, but it came out strained and panicky. “R-Rickley, s-stop!”

Bleary, bloodshot eyes opened to see a hurt Plug and an angry Gamma. Rickley stopped screaming a few moments later, though the pain in his abdomen was still immense. He started to cry quietly, backing away to the far side of the cell.

Fists pounded on the door, making Rickley jump even more.

“Shut the hell up in there you fucken ass bags!” a snippy guard roared through the door.

In response, Rickley pressed two shaky hands to his mouth to prevent himself from yelling out. He felt exposed without a hand to protect himself.

In his brain, both opposing Ricks appeared predatory and ready to hurt him. Rickley was terrified.

“I-I’m sorry, p-please don’t hurt me, please don’t t-touch, please please please”

Jeez, what a mess. That bout of terror stricken cries had only managed to attract all of the wrong attention. Couldn’t catch a single fucking break in prickson, could he?

The only thing worse than Gamma now being awake and his noteable fury thrown into the mix was the oppressive threat of the guards who overheard and responded to the chaos. The last thing he and Rickley needed was to become even bigger targets for their superiors, who rarely skipped out on a chance to treat their subjects like something less than animal.

The banging on the iron door caused Plugs’ entire body frame to tense up, expecting nothing short of the worst. They were getting seriously pissed, and they were downright lucky to remain mostly undisturbed. A second stern verbal warning was a sure sign that there wouldn’t be a merciful third.

The mild burning from the light scratches indicated that welts would be left in their place, but they’d fade. Not that Plug really cared - it had just been so surprising, coming from somebody so meek.

No - The real problem now was avoiding getting into even more trouble, which would be inevitable if Rickley couldn’t pull it together.

God, he was trying, though. His companion muffled his own voice with both hands, backing away into the farthest reaches available in their terribly compact room. Inconsolable and face contorted in crippling pain.

He’d recognize that kind of hurt anywhere.

What even– what even happened? This just had something to do with Gammas’ sick influence. The vile disgust for him boiled in Ricks’ gut. He was the one who deserved to be treated like shit, not Rickley. “M-move, asshole,” Plug snapped, shoving Gamma away roughly with an elbow despite the fact that Plug had been the one to invade his bed space. “F-fuck off.”

It was a warning. If he had any sense, he’d shut the fuck up and let him handle this.

“Jesus, R-Rickley, you-you gotta calm down, man.” Plug didn’t approach or make sudden movements, trying to bring his tone back to something soothing. “N-nobody’s out to- to hurt you.”

Of course, that wasn’t entirely true, but Rick would do his damndest to ensure it. He glared back at Gamma with a look that could kill, murderous intent. “I-Isn’t that right, douchebag?”

Rickley managed to get his crying to quiet a bit, body trembling terribly. He kept his face covered and refused to look at Plug. He was afraid that if he made eye contact, it would be seen as an invitation to… To…

That’s how it usually went, anyway…

Gamma was less than pleased but the toxicity in Plug’s voice was frightening, and he guessed it would be better to just leave them alone for now.

Rickley didn’t believe that there was no threat, though, and desperately tried to keep his fears bay. It hurt to think about but it was burned into his mind like the X to his back. Protruding thoughts screamed into his mind, chest filling up with pain.

“R-Riiiiick…” came a pitiful whine, Rickley’s breath quickening, “H-help m-me, please, puh-puh-please……!!!”

It wouldn’t have taken an expert on the subject to tell that this was a full blown panic attack wracking through Rickleys’ entire being; although Plug couldn’t say that he didn’t recognize it though his own past experience.

Oh, fuck, he was - Rickley was pleading for help using his name. It felt like a shotgun shell to the chest, like his ribs had been blown wide open and there was nothing inside.

Is… is this what it’d sounded like in here, while he was bound to confinement? Rickley just curled into the corner, crying inconsolably and calling out desperately for help that would never arrive, alone and scared –

The tough guy demeanor that Plug worked so hard to project nearly crumpled under pressure, and he bit his bottom lip to prevent it from trembling. This was becoming mentally overtaxing all too quickly, a strain on the exhausted psyche.

Keep it together. Failure wasn’t an option. He had to maintain enough strength for the both of them to survive on.

“I-I’m here.“ The assurances came out tranquil but shaky, as if unsure of their capability to actually do anything in favor of comfort. He had to clear his throat to push down the weakness in his voice before continuing, this time a little more firm. “R-Rickley, l-listen, I’m- I’m here.”

The only thing that Plug could think of to lessen the fear of his presence was to sink down to Rickleys’ level on the floor. He winced as he set a knee against the ground - he was starting to feel exceptionally sore from what he’d been through over the past twelve days, combined with the prexisting discomfort of going so long without pain medication.

If this strategy to calm Rickley down was going to work, he’d have to tread carefully. Rick didn’t approach too close or make any movements that could be interpreted as advancement - That would likely only make things exponentially worse. “I-it’s me, Plug Rick. Or, at least I-I used to be.” The whole prison thing really threw a wrench into the businuess from which he derived his name. “I’m y-your friend.” Those were hard to come by in these long, miserable days entombed within these walls. They had to stick together, keep a head on their shoulders. “It’s - it’s Rick and Rickley a-aaa hundred years, r-remember?”

Tilting his head as to try to get a better visual of Rickleys’ face in the pitch darkness, Plug honestly couldn’t determine if this was harming or helping. He’d hope for the latter. “Hey, R-Rickley,” he began quietly, bringing his tone down to a hushed whisper. “T-take my hand.”

It was a risky move, but it was worth the try if it meant that Rickley would find some solace in it. Plug slowly extended a single hand, palm up and fingers laid flat. “I-it’s okay,” he forewarned, “Just- just give me y-your hand.”

It was taking a while for the man to be consoled, but he breaths were lengthening and crying was quieting. Plug’s gentle words did wonders– and Rickley began to listen to him and blink slowly at the words. Sure, he didn’t understand much. He didn’t feel real. But the promise of a friend was… Healing. ‘100 years Rick and Rickley’…..

His eyes went down when Plug came closer, but looked back up at the mention of his name. The request was slightly frightening but after the reassurance, Rickley’s pale blue eyes stared up to Plug in an unwavering trust. The thin, scarred hand reached to touch Plug’s, grasping at it weakly.

“R….Rick…” he said softly, clutching onto his hand like a lifeline. Rickley was just so tired.

Even in the obscuring shroud of darkness, a spark of recognition seemed to glow in Rickleys’ puffy eyes as they turned up to meet his gaze. Somewhere between cold concrete slabs and amongst too many cots boxing them in, something in this shit hellhole of a place went right, for a change.

Their eyes met and didn’t break away, searching blue steadily focused on teary, shimmering blue. It wasn’t invasive or strange, in any sense - it was held out this long in unquestionable solidarity, delving deeper than the surface tension of midnight mental breakdowns and crushing environmental pressure to reach a rarely touched sense of trust that lived beneath.

Opening up to others was a quality that was almost impossible for Ricks to access, yet here they were – Two of the most unlikely of their kind to befriend one another, holding hands and communicating through expression alone.

Their fingers slipped together like puzzle pieces, palm pressed to sickly palm. Plug breathed a shallow sigh of relief at the reciprocated gesture, glancing down at their intertwined fingers for a moment to note how their paired scars looked like they could almost blend together into the same skin. Maybe they weren’t so different, after all.

“Y-yeah, buddy,” Rick affirmed with a gentle squeeze of Rickleys’ bony hand, forcing a quick flash of a smile that faded as swiftly as it had appeared. Despite the fact that they were quintessentially the same person, the cold palm pressed firmly against his wasn’t quite the same size, somehow more brittle beneath curled fingers. “I-I’m riiiiight here w-with ya.”

Plugs’ hand wasn’t much in terms of feasible protection, but it was everything the former drug lord had in his name left to give. He ignored the ache in his scabby knuckles when Rickley clutched tighter, matching the gentle strength in a firm grip. It was well worth the sting of fingertips pressing into bruises, to calm Rickley down. “A-and as long as I’m w-with you? N-nobody’s gonna get th-the chance to eeurp h-hurt you.” And that was a promise, backed up by former evidence.

The floor space wasn’t exactly the most roomy place to be seated in; and Rick knew better than to remain with his back to the enemy for too long. “I-I’m just gonna- gonna move, okay?” He briefly warned, not wanting to scare his companion by shifting closer suddenly. He slid over and pressed his back to the wall beside Rickley, their hands still entwined and forearms pressing together. It felt natural. One and the same.

“R-Rickley, I-I gotta tell y-you something.” Plug looked over, giving the hand light tap with a thumb. “Are ya- are you w-with me here?”

The gentleness in the way Plug spoke to him was relieving and assuring. All of this balled up fear and sadness had been let out and this was the aftermath, drained and nearly passing out. He felt utterly exhausted, but it was the first night since Plug’s absence that he didn’t wake up to a predatory Gamma.

It was such a privilege.

Rickley /knew/ he didn’t deserve a friend like Plug. He knew Plug was way too kind to him through all of this, and Rickley got scared too easily and cried too much. He hated this about himself.

It was bearable when they were high, or drunk. Rickley didn’t cry as much– he was so broken away from reality that his brain couldn’t resurface the fear and trauma. They’d been friends through Plug’s business, and Rickley knew not to expect anything more.

But here they were, holding hands in a grimy cell as Plug desperately tried to get Rickley to focus and calm down. And it was working. But Rickley’s headspace often reverted to that of a child’s, and it was hard to understand a lot of things.

He lifted his head when Plug asked him if he was there– Rickley was definitely there in some sense, but his brain was tired. He’d be able to listen, anyway.

“Y-y-yeah..?”

The body beside him seemed to become more serene the longer their fingers stayed grasped together in a warm embrace. There were no more panicky sounds or signs of distress, it was just… calm again. Whatever he was doing, it was actually helping.

“Listen, R-Rickley…” Plug rubbed the back of his neck as he began speaking tentatively, mindfully keeping his voice down just in case their third party was evesdropping on their muted conversation. You never knew what bits of information could be used against you, and it was doubtful that Gamma had gone back to sleep that fast.

“Uh.” How should he put this without it sounding weird? “Uuuuh…” His eyes rolled around to look down at their hands again, chewing his bottom lip in thought.

“There’s a-aaaa lot of shitheads in here, b-but you’re the only one that I-I don’t think is gonna try to uh, shank me.“ It was a roundabout way of saying that Rickley was the only person here that Plug could trust.

“This right here?” Their hands raised up together as Rick lifted them in tandem; their arms were almost the same length and wrapped around each other at the elbow. “Th-this is all w-we got.” The single thing they could count on in a chaotic, punishing world.

“Th-that’s why you - you have to stay strong,“ he encouraged as his voice dipped an octave, "So y-you can help me out, because I-I…” He glanced over at his friend, hesitating a beat to say the next set of words. “I need you, man.”

There it was. An admittance of personal tribulations that carried on the underlying weak notes; They were both in desperate need of somebody. For one of them, it was just… harder to tell.

Plug drew his legs up to his chest, leaning heavily against the wall. He fidgeted as if to distract himself, trying not to make this any weirder than he had already. It felt like they could sit side by side for ages. "And w-when we get out of here- and we will-” he whispered with firm determination, “First thing, wuh-we’re getting f-fuckin’ hiiiigh a-and getting a couple a’ pitchers of sangria.” It was something to look forward to. Keep the hope alive. “Okay?”

Tired yet engaged in Plug’s intensely blue eyes, Rickley blinked a few times and gazed back at their entwined hands. Rickley had begun to realize how important it was that he keep it together, not just for his own safety, but for Plug too. They… they /had/ to get out of here, and Plug said it would happen.. And he believe him.

Rickley was too shaken by the statement to even have the decency to blush. But he managed to open his mouth and admit the fact, too, and his voice rang out softly, “I need you, too.”

The promise of leaving the suffocating prison and being able to get wasted with his.. his best friend, it gave him a gentle hope that wrapped around his heart and pulled violently. He longed to be able to do that with Rick–

Rickley held onto his hand tightly, but not as much as before. He didn’t want to hurt Plug’s hands more than they were already.

The affirmation of mutual feelings sparked a little glistening light in Plugs’ eyes, even in the dark. Mouth slightly agape, he blinked and broke sight contact to look at his knees, and released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. They needed each other. The sick Rick and the ex-plug Rick. What a twist of events.

"I know.” Rick let out a sigh, channeling a deep exhaustion that weighted down his shoulders until they slumped forward, eyelids fluttering closed. He raised his free hand to his worn face and rubbed the meat of his palm across a tired eye. “I know, buddy.”

God, this incarceration was going to be hard to pull through with a level head. This shit was starting to get to him, chip away at the rough exterior he sheltered himself behind. And it showed in these moments of exposure, when the sum of everything bled through to the surface a little.

Still, there was something really assuring about… this. The closeness they shared must’ve envoked some basic human response, a physical connection lighting up starved dopamine neuron centers in the brain; he couldn’t quite place it, but being hand in hand was… It was alright.

For the first time since he’d been apprehended, Rick felt like he could relax for a moment. Shed the guarded demeanor for just a second and let himself chill.

“Tell you w-what, Rickley,“ he addressed softly, lolling his head back against the wall. "When we break out, we- We’re gon run around, a-and…” He was trailing off, eyes half lidded. “A-and have a time…” The threat of sleep encroached, and Rick was interrupted by a yawn. “Have n’ a, a whole lotta fun, s-smokin’ heeella w-weed… and…”

He was out like a light. Plugs’ grip on Rickleys’ hand loosened as he fell into unconsciousness, fingers going limp. He snored softly, starting to gradually slide down the wall;

But it was short lived. The inevitable morning wakeup call crackled through the intercom, lights all flickering to life at once with the sound of a thousand bulbs buzzing in unison.

GOOOOOD MORNING, PRISONERS!

Plug startled awake with a gasp, throwing up an arm to shield his eyes from the searing fluorescence with a wince. Fuck, not already. Were they waking them up earlier just for the hell of it?

The enthusiasm of whoever was doing their pod announcements was getting obnoxious to the point where it was inspiring some serious feelings of malcontent that Plug didn’t hesitate to express.

“Ugh, mmmmmotherfucker,” Plug hissed vehemently under his breath, covering his brow and shaking his head. Another day of this shit, following cues and commands from this asshole that he didn’t want to go along with.

Oh. Rick suddenly became aware that his other hand was still clutched with Rickleys’ - he’d begun squeezing a little too hard on accident due to the circumstances. Clinging to him like he was anchored. “O-oh shit, s-sorry.”

Rickley’s mood seemed to improve from his words, feeling so much calmer as Plug spoke and held their hands together. They were both back on the verge of sleep, but it felt like minutes before they were woken up.

The man jumped, hand still intertwined with Plug’s. He was relieved that he was still there. He nearly fell back asleep despite the yelling, but Plug’s tight grip made his eyes reopen tiredly.

“O-oh, i-its okay…” he said quietly, squeezing back. He didn’t want to let go. He was scared to let go. It was the only thing they had…

“I’m … s-so glad you’re back..” he mumbled, attempting to stand on his legs wobbily but still keeping their hands together.

What did Rickley mean by being glad he was back? Where would he have gone? It wasn’t a coherent thought - he must be overtired and mixing up his words.

“Ha. I’m not.” He wasn’t glad to be back in here at all. The laugh was sharp and unhumorous, the statement made in bitter feeling. In his opinion, anything would’ve been better than waking up trapped, wearing ugly clothes and dreading every minute to come until they were allowed to sleep again. It was a fucking nightmare, quite literally orchestrated for and by Ricks, which was… kind of fucked up. Very self deprecating.

Ugh, not the best first thought of the day to have.

To his mild concern, Rickley didn’t look Iike he was doing too well on his feet. He didn’t break their hands to get up, either out of fear of falling or otherwise, which sort of tugged his accepting accomplice along for the ride. “Woah, h-hold on. Gimme a sec.” Plug had to prepare for a second before straightening his legs beneath him, grimmacing at the loud popping in his knees. Shit, the hard floor had not done any favors for those aggravated old injuries.

Morning announcements blared in the background of a foggy, sleepless mental haze. Food, mandatory excercise, showers, rec time, mandatory labor, food, rec time –

R-pod was really getting it in today. There was a faintly audible chorus of displeasure from the other cells.

“Daaaamn,” Rick responded in time with the others. “Th-they almost never did both mandatories on one day on my - my last run through here.” Oh boy, were they in for it. “Bastard guards and th-their power trips.”

Wearing a frown of disappointment, he decided to aquireasecond opinion. “Hey, asshole.” Rick looked over to their unwelcomed third wheel, snapping his fingers to draw Gammas’ attention. “You look like y-you’ve been here a while.” It was done with an insulting tone, insinuating that there was something ugly that gave it away. “Th-they do this shit often?”

Rickley looked at Rick with concern but didn’t say anything, only attempted to help him to his feet while he himself was wobbling. He stared at his hands. There was something off, and he couldn’t pinpoint what. His hands felt warmer than usual, almost sticky–

His eyes adjusted to the light and went wide as he realised the substance on his hand was more grotesque than he’d expected.

Plug’s question was not answered.

Rickley moved slowly to the bed where the sheet covered Gamma. Slowly, Rickley peeled the fabric back to reveal a mop of vibrant green hair matted with a dark, sticky red.

Panic jumped in Rickley’s chest.  
He had to distract Plug.

At least, that’s what his plan was. Rickley started to cry silently, guilt slicing into his chest. He didn’t remember doing anything but the evidence was there– his hands were coated in the same shade that soaked Gamma’s head.

“Wh..what…”  
He didn’t want to accept it. He was afraid. Plug was going to hurt him now. Plug wouldn’t trust him now. Plug would hate him. Plug hated him.

Rickley was all alone.

No response. Huh, that was strange. Gamma was usually so unpleasantly chatty. Ah, it was probably for the better. Rick rubbed at his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, missing Rickleys’ interaction with the obvious issue at stake until he felt him start to stiffen and shake, feeling it carry through the link of their arms.

Plug looked up blearily at his friend. “Uh, Rickley? W-what’s up?” Were those fresh tears welling up in his eyes? They were pouring down over an expression of near frozen terror. “R… Rickley?”

There was definitely something wrong. Just beyond the foreground of a quietly crying Rickley lied the cot still filled by its’ occupant, but –

The white sheets were dark and heavy so that they clung to the body beneath, which was lying unnaturally still and limp. “Hhhhholy shit.” The smell of organic iron that coincided with blood hit in a wave so strong that he could taste it on the back of his toungue, repulsive to the point where Plug stumbled back and half-coughed, half-gagged into the crook of his arm - he would’ve tripped backwards if not for the balance that Rickley provided with his sticky hand.

Wait.

Their tightly joined hands were moist and sweaty, except it wasn’t… It didn’t quite feel like sweat. “Wuh-w-whats –?” Watching in aghast horror as their hands peeled apart from a sickly wet grasp, Rick tried not to feel queasy as threads of viscous jelly clinging to strands of green hair stretched between their fingers.

The splatter across his now free hand was made up of blood and bits of flesh, which had been previously sandwiched between their palms and ground deep into the lines and crevices therein. Mouth hanging wide open in disgust and shock, Plug could only manage to eloquently respond in a shaky voice, “H-holy f-f-fuck, oh my god.“

The pieces all came together.

A sense of abstract calm overcame him as he unblinkingly regarded Rickley with a newfound respect mixed with horror. “Y-y-you… you killed him.” Holy shit, this meek and mild, stick thin Sick Rick had managed to bludgeon Gamma in his sleep, with nobody the wiser.

“W-w-what did you do?!” The words came out bewildered and harsh, accompanied by a second disbelieving look at his bloodied hand. “Did you just- just come back aaa-and-?” And place his gore-slathered hand back into his, like nothing even happened?

“W-when did you even–?!” To know that he had slept through that was beyond his conprehension. It looked like it’d been quick, quiet. The feat would’ve been downright impressive if it wasn’t so terrifying, if it didn’t represent a knife hanging over their heads.

“Th-they’re gonna put us away. Oh shit. Ohhhh shit.” He raised his clean hand and brushed it through his hair, tugging at the blue locks in frustration. “I-I just got out of solitary, R-Rickley!” And this was more than enough grounds to go right back into that torturous cage. “D-do you have a-any idea w-what they did to me?” There was more than a subliminal hint fear that played out across his features, and he gritted his teeth to ward off the primal flight instinct in his chest - oh god, he didn’t want to go back.

There was - there was no time to be upset. This was going to go to shit for the both of them really fast unless they took direct action. A body and then the two of them - it wasn’t going to look good with this blood coating the both of them.

His hands shot out and grabbed Rickley by the wrists, dragging him across the room to the single small sink by force. They didn’t have time for being gentle, only to act. He ran the water at highest blast, wasting no time in thrusting thin hands under the icy current that sputtered out of the metal fixture and scrubbing at them desperately. The blood spiraled down the drain in a wash of rust.

"Fucking hell, shit shit oh fuck, w-w-we reeeeally gotta think now, Rickley! H-how do we - how do we make this l-look like an accident?”

Rickley couldn’t breath. He couldn’t even hear Plug anymore, it all just sounded muffled and far away and everything was spinning. Tears dribbled down his cheeks as blue eyes strained wide in panic. Plug hated him. Plug hated him. Plug /hated/ him.

It was all his fault.

He stumbled to the sink as he was roughly grabbed and was too numb to even feel the cold water on his hands. His vision was too fuzzy. Rickley couldn’t scream again. It would get them caught. He had to be quiet. Don’t speak, Rickley. Plug is going to hit you–

He held back half developed sobs and finally came back when his hands were clean. Plug’s voice finally came through and he just stared, body trembling.

"It’s my fault.”

His voice was unusually steady, even as panic was clear on his face.

“You’re not to blame. They’ll send /me/ away. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I’ll go I’ll go, I’m only a… A danger…”

Why was this so hard to say?  
Why did the lump in his throat grow when he thought about saying goodbye to Plug?  
Rickley wanted to hold his breath until he fell asleep and never woke up.

“I.. I c-can’t even r-remember d-doing this…”

This was turning into one disaster following swiftly after the other. Rickley had perpetrated this murder, and he still couldn’t find the mental fortitude to deal with it - Once again, it was up to him to be the strong one. The voice of reason that nobody wanted to hear.

“I-I’m already in here for like, a-aaaa dozen Rick based murder charges, w-w-what the hell makes you think th-they’re not gonna suspect me?” This was very much a shared problem, no matter which way they’d try to flip it. Trying to explain a dead cellmate to the guards was a nil point.

“I get it, he had it f-fucking coming, but goddamn Rickley, w-we would’ve figured out another way–”

There really wasn’t much margin of error to blame him for what he’d done. The unimaginable strain of being alone with that vile Rick for days on end must’ve been unbearable. If it were him, he would’ve snapped long before Rickley had.

“I sh-shoulda just killed him w-when I had the chance.” He was turning the blame on himself; none of this would’ve happened if he had the balls to just slaughter Gamma back on day one. “God damn it. God fucking damn it.”

After making sure that their hands were washed of all evidence, he reached forward and grasped Rickley on either side of his forearms, shaking him to signify the importance and desperation at play. “Just s-snap out of it a-and listen!” They didn’t have the luxury of time for tears and panic and regret.

“I-it doesn’t matter what the fuck you tell them, th-they’re gonna look a-at you and - and think we teamed up to kill him.” Those were just the facts. Rickey certainly didn’t look the type to be able to wreak that much damage on his own, judging by the dimensions of his physical proportions. It was still questionable how the hell he’d managed to bash in Gammas’ skull like that, when his hands were so little and… And held in his as he’d fallen asleep.

Wait a second. Rick grabbed Rickley by one of his wrists and lifted the hand up, turning it over to view his knuckles. They weren’t swollen like they would be from impact, or split open or anything incriminating. Something that had been obscured by the thick coating of crimson.

“Y… your hands aren’t even fucked up.”

Another decisive look over at the sheer amount of blood pouring out of Gammas’ cot solidified the thought crossing Plugs’ mind. “Th-there’s no w-way you did it.” The human cranium was exceptionally difficult to break, and the bones in Rickleys’ hands would be splintered. “W-we’re being framed.”

Rickley obediently shut his mouth and looked down, listening to the man with a heavy, shattered heart. He listened quietly, despair creeping its way up into his mind and around his neck to suffocate him. Somehow, he didn’t cry.

It wasn’t until Rickley’s hands were taken into Plug’s palms that he really snapped out of it. He looked at Plug with widened blue eyes, not believing what he heard. Framed? But why? Why would anyone do this?

Because they were lower that the lowest. Wasn’t that true?

Rickley didn’t say anything. He didn’t cry or whine of sob, didn’t panic. He just stared with a saddened expression of acceptance. He pulled his hand away and moved to sit of his cot, eyes training on their dead cellmate. Voiceless.

As far as framed murder schemes went, this one in particular was pretty fucked up. Whoever set them up had done a damn good job of leaving he and Rickley to look nothing short of unquestionably responsible. It wasn’t exactly like the three of them didn’t have prexisting incentive to gang up and kill each other.

He and Rickley might as well go ahead and dip their fingers in Gammas’ blood again - it wouldn’t make a lick of difference either way.

They were in serious trouble.

And they both knew it. The lack of response altogether from Rickley was twice as disturbing as any sound of distress he could’ve made in its’ place; The stunned moment of silence was sombering, heavy–

Almost too much to take in without sitting down. He sunk to sit next to his cellmate on the edge of the cot, staring forward at the grotesque image of death that lay before them. The quiet lull left a gap for Plug to fill with his rambling voice.

“Th-the guards are dirty, Rickley. Ev-every last one of ‘em.” It was hard to rationalize why it’d happened to them specifically, but he was trying. Desperately searching for the sense amidst the chaos, only to come to the worst conclusion. “Th-they get bored, so they pull th-this shit. W-we’re easy targets.”

Looking back upon the steps that lead here, the signs of something like this happening trailed all the way back to the first scuffle with Gamma. The guard Ricks had been plotting this since the start, hadn’t they? Not even out of reasoning, just for the entertainment purposes. To deliver a kick to the teeth while they were already down.

Hindsight was twenty-twenty. “It was aaaall premeditated.”

The doors were going to swing open any second, and it was anyone’s guess how long they’d get before the guards came rushing in to pin blame and wrench them into cuffs. They had only this short moment to process everything and come to the nauseating acceptance that there was no way they were getting out of this.

Tentatively reaching over, Plug gently laid his hand flat over Rickleys, as if preparing to inform him of something grevious. “Y-y-you gotta l-listen to me, Rickley, w-while we got the chance. Th-this is- you aren’t gonna like it, but y-you have to hear it from me.”

The overwhelming buzz resounded above and the locks in their door began to unhinge clunkily. Rick sped along his speech, trying to cram the information in. “The guards. D-don’t let them see th-that they get to you.” It would only make things worse. “Th-they’re gonna look for weakness. Don’t break.”

Advice imparted, Rick swallowed hard and put on his tough face as he stared at their automatic cell door nervously. “Buckle up, R-Rickley. W-we’re deeeefinitely going to solitary.”

Raw fear tugged at his heart when he realized that this was actually happening. Rickley could barely get the words through his head before he felt himself being grabbed by the back of the neck. The guard twisted his arms behind his back awkwardly and cuffed him, shoving a dark cloth bag over his head. Didn’t want them knowing where they were going.

Plug’s voice echoed in his head to hold on and stay together. Quickly, the encouragement faded and he was so terribly afraid. He was in shock, it seemed, and he didn’t move or speak when a guard roughly forced him, along with Plug, to solitary.

The next thing he felt was a cold concrete floor and a cold metal ring clicking and beeping around his ankle. He opened his eyes; the back and cuffs hand been removed. He laid on the cold, disgusting floor and began to cry.

He moved his face over and looked at the small, rusty grating that lead to them next room over. He didn’t say anything, but his cries echoed softly.

It wouldn’t be long before someone would come inside to torture them.

Poised like hungering dogs outside the door, the guards rushed in to subdue them. They weren’t even trying to be subtle about how eager they were; was he supposed to beleive a group of them just so happened to be standing outside, ready to strike with unnecessary force?

Thing was, it didn’t matter if they knew they were being framed or not. The guards were in complete control. When it came down to it, they could do whatever they wanted and get away with it.

With the death of their roommate giving leeway to to treat them as hazardous and violent inmates, there wasn’t anything to expect except cruelty. If he knew these assholes, and he was these assholes, they’d use that sort of thing to their full advantage.

Raising both hands into the air in a universal gesture of defeat didn’t help. Not even an act of compliance could save them from being grabbed by too many hands and unceremoniously bounced against the concrete.

There was no use in putting up a defense when the numbers were stacked so unfavorably - It was best to stay still and let the bastard guards twist his shoulders too far and press knees into his back so as to pin him against the ground; Rick bit his lip to suppress the urge to sharply bark in response to pain. They really weren’t gentle with those cuffs they tautly locked around his wrists, or the –

The mouthful of burlap cloth wasn’t pleasant, either. He couldn’t see shit through it, leaving him disoriented and nearly incapable of processing where the ground was when he was lifted to his feet. He kept tripping, and was realigned forcefully.

Blinded and bound by the chain, they stumbled down a long hall leading to solitary cells. The walk felt like a funeral march, each step bringing with it the sensation of his heart sinking lower into his twisted gut.

When they stopped, he felt like they might as well have shot him now. It would’ve matched the equivalency of this dread lodged between his ribs. Instead they slapped on a cold metal anklet, undid his binds and shoved him inside an unfurnished broomcloset of a room.

The last light waned across the wall with the closing door, plunging him into suffocating darkness.

Sitting upright on the floor, Plug lowered his head into his hands. Never in a hundred years would he have anticipated returning back to this hellhole so quickly. It was as if he’d never even left in the first place, and… and now he might never get to leave.

The floor he’d been cast upon was just as filthy as it had been before, grimy to the touch from dirt and old blood and - and who even knew what else. This tiny space functioned almost like a sensory deprivation tank, with no sight and nothing to sense but four plain walls -

But there was something different this time- there was noise. It was Rickleys’ voice, almost too quiet to hear if not for the otherwise impending silence.

“R-Rickley?” Plug called out, trying to trace where it was originating from. He shuffled forward, a hand dragging across the wall until his fingers brushed against an abnormality.

There was an old grate fixed into the wall, right near the ground. It must link between their two cells, channeling Rickleys’ voice through it–

“Rickley, can y-you hear me?” He called through the grate, crouching down until his ear was almost pressed against it. “A-are you okay? I-I’m - I’m in here. Next to you.”

Rickley nearly jumped at the quiet speaking, pressing himself towards the grate and trembling. “R-Riiiiick???!!!” came the terrified response. Rickley moved his bony hands to pull at the grate, attempting to remove it somehow. It seemed to have some give, but didn’t come off.

“Wh-where are we?” he sobbed quietly, body curling up as he attempted to somehow console himself. Raw terror choked him and threw his soul on the ground, and he pulled at the grate again.

“I’m scared,” his voice seemed strangely lucid. More lucid than normal. “Fuck, Rick, I’m terrified. What are we going to do? Fuck.”

The voice on the other side responded in a heartstring-tugging desperation, drawing substantially closer to the rusted vent. They couldn’t have had more than a few inches of wall standing between them as separation. He could even hear Rickley scratching at the grate, trying to claw through. They were so close, side by side.

“Y-yeah,” he affirmed his identity, “It’s me, R-Rickley.” He let his eyes close for a moment, relieved to hear a familiar voice instead of maddening white noise. “They - they put us in n-next to each other.”

The question of where they had been placed provoked a hesitation to respond. He almost didn’t want to say it, acknowledge how utterly and totally fucked they were. "W-w-we’re in solitary, Rickley.”

It came out sympathetic and soft; He couldn’t help it. It was like telling somebody their worst fears had come true. This… wasn’t a kind fate to befall them. “Th-th-this is where I w-was. Or m-maybe I was in y-yours.” For twelve long days. “I-I carved s-something on th-the wall. I don’t know.” It didn’t matter.

Funny, it was like the tables had turned; Now Rickley was the one with the steady voice, and he couldn’t stop stuttering under stress. “H-hey, it’s- i-i-it’s okay.” The reassurances were empty. This was so far from okay.

If there was one thing he was thankful for, it was that Rickley couldn’t see his face right now as it scrunched up in a contortion of pain. Fuck! He had to be the strong one. Had to hold it together so Rickley wouldn’t get scared out of his mind.

His hand that found the grate pushed against it, first lightly and then with more strength; Its’ corroded nails were no match for aptly applied pressure. It gave way with a clatter, and he stuck his hand through the gap until he could feel the vent on the other side, winding fingers through its’ gaps. “I-I’m right here, d-don’t worry.”

That was the only sentiment of comfort he could offer. Everything else had gone to shit.

What were they going to do? There was only one thing they were capable of. “W-we’re gonna - we’re gonna wait th-this out.” There was no telling how long that’d be. Maybe forever. “W-we’re just gonna s-survive this a-aaand break out. Like w-we…”

Plug trailed off. He had to find his voice again, swallowing to prevent from getting audibly choked up. “L-like w-w-we s-said we would. I-it’ll be just hhhhh - Just Rick and Rickley.”

Hearing the clatter, he whimpered and blindly searched for Plug’s fingers against the grate. Frozen fingers grasped at Plug’s and he cried softly, moving both of his hands to try and break the rusting metal away. Sobbing now, he finally tore the grate off with slightly bleeding hands. He wiped them on his clothes quickly, not thinking much before he took Plug’s hand.

He listened quietly.  
Rickley wasn’t stupid. Sometimes he felt he was and he often acted like it. His head never cooperated with him. But right now, he knew there was no chance they’d get out.

"Rick and Rickley…” he repeated softly, pillowing his head on his arm. “Running around…” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Just us…”  
Maybe in their dreams.

Fingers wrapped snugly around one anothers’ curves and came to rest like even stitches. Their individual digits curled into the empty spaces between worn fingers until their hands were clasped seamlessly, locked together.

What a stroke of ironic luck that they could reach through this old ventilation system, given just enough space to cling to each other and exchange words in the dark. It was alright, they just couldn’t… Couldn’t see anything or do more than touch hands. But they had this singular positive aspect amidst the hopelessness, just this warmpth between their palms. It was something where there was a bleak view of nothing.

Hands tightly wound together with fingertips resting atop eachothers’ bony knuckles, their grip only strengthened. Like they were afraid to stop squeezing.

He could hear Rickley crying through the grate. The sound echoed around in their empty chambers and amplified the misery tenfold. Rick let out a shuddering breath, resting the side of his head on a folded arm as he lay on the cold floor. He closed his eyes, frowning hard. All he could see was the same shade of black, either way.

They both knew, didn’t they? The gravity of the situation they found themselves in was crushing. How could they not know?

Fuck, hearing Rickley talk like that, reciting their hundred years speech like a vow - it was… Almost too much to bear with dry eyes. He could feel them start to water up and threaten to leak if he chose to blink. Rickley was - he was playing along with this poorly presented act that everything would mystically turn out okay despite the circumstances, a blatant lie to hide the disparaging truth.

God, he was really trying, though.

Obscured on the other side of the wall, Rick sniffled wetly and channeled everything into a grimace, trying to keep the weakness at bay. "Y-yeah, just us,” he repeated, adjusting his hand so he could hang on even tighter. “Y-you’re right. W-we’re best friends. W-why would it - why w-would it be a-any different, y'know?”

Drawing a breath in an effort to fend off the emotional weight pressing down on his chest, Rick picked up where Rickley had left off. “Listen, it’s- it’s just gonna be Rick and R-Rickley, a-aaaa hundred years.” They’d never make it out. They’d never make it alive. “WWW dot Rick a-and Rickley, just runnin’ a-a-around f-forever…”

The future was only a fantasy, at this rate.

“Th-the inside world is our enemy R-Rickley, a-and they’ll try to tear us apart–” Limb from limb. With electric prods and fists and boots.

“B-but if you stick w-with me, Rickley-” His voice lowered, almost edging on the side of a plead. “I-it’ll be just. Just Rick a-and Rickley, best friends t-to the end. Taaaalkin’ through the floor vents a-and… And staying alive.”

Rickley sobbed and held his hand tightly, listening to him speak. He knew Plug was having a difficult time listening to him, but he couldn’t help it. He was tired. He managed to stop the sobs for a moment and say, "I-Its okay t-t-to cry R-Rick.. I w-wont think less of y-you..”

Voice soft, filled with emotion. He sniffled and went back to crying, quieter now. Plug finishing the speech had made his heart nearly collapse in despair.

He heard footsteps. He quickly pulled his hand away, pushing the grate back in place and squirming to the corner of the tiny room. The door opened and the blinding light of the outside left him helpless.

They didn’t speak to him. Grabbing him by his arms, the two guards picked him up and tied him to some sort of rope in the ceiling of the cell. His arms felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets. He started to cry at the pain, and a closed fist hit came to his jaw, which made him scream in pain.

“H-help!!” he shouted desperately, sobbing and heaving.

Ha. How’d they end up here like this? Never in a million years would Plug have ever thought that he’d come to befriend another Rick on such a mutual level, and now they may never escape the confines of this prison and just get to do… Rick things. Like cruise around spacetime getting into a trouble, getting too drunk on sangria until they could fluently speak with a liquorlip honesty they might regret.

It’d come to this, with hand clutched in hand so hard that the tendons therein strained. From riches to waste, from glory to gallows.

Despite all the effort to mask his true feelings, they still exposed themselves. Rickley must’ve heard the hitch in his breath, or the catch in his voice, or something that effectively gave away just how close to losing it he was. “I-I-I’m not–”

He vocalized his denial at the same time that the dam broke, hot tears running down over his face. “I-I’m nnn-not c-crying.” But he was. Oh shit. “I-I-I’m–” He couldn’t quite get the right words out. They kept getting stuck behind his tongue. “I-I’m- w-we - you–”

The sound of a door opening was a sign that their moment of peace had been compromised. Hands unfurled and shot back into their own cells, leaving nothing but warm impressions where fingers had been. Scrambling to place the grate back in turn, he shuffled back across the floor and stared nervously at the light streaming through from the next cell over.

Of course they’d chosen Rickley first. He was a fresh face to solitary, easy to victimize.

The emptiness of these chambers only brought every sound closer, made it grotesquely real. The two extra sets of feet on the floor, the whimper and then a curdling scream in Rickleys’ voice, the sound of tightening rope–

Help. The cry rang out like a prayer, calling to no one in some desperate effort. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even call back at the risk that their line of communication would be severed, or they’d get separated. He just had to -

Endure being a silent witness to the torture. Rick tried covering his ears, but it didn’t help knowing that on the other side of the wall, terrible things were transpiring. It didn’t block anything out completely, he could still see the shadows cast and feel the reverberation –

He wanted drugs. He just wanted drugs. Anything to black out this piece of bad memory, make his mind fuzzy enough to cope without… without feeling so vehemently angry, so frustratingly powerless. So fucking sad.

The door to his cell slowly swung open, and not even a raised hand to shield his narrowed eyes from the light could keep him from flinching away. He knew what was coming from the tall silhouettes and the thick ropes clutched in their hands;

It was a psychological tactic. Keep them strung up on their feet so they couldn’t sleep, couldn’t relax, constantly aching and exposed. Everything was a strategy to break them. Rick could still make out the purplish bruises around his wrists from the… The last time.

This was going to be a looong couple of hours.

Rickley didn’t know when he’d passed out, but it must have been after they’d gotten to Plug because he saw the light from the other room coming through the grate. His entire body ached and despair wrapped itself around his bleeding heart and crushed it.

He was on the cold concrete again, his body trembling without control. Terror flooded his head as he heard footsteps outside again but it wasn’t for either of them. Just… Patrolling guards. One of Rickley’s hands had been broken by a guard the night before. Or day. He didn’t know which.

“R-Rick?” came his scared voice as he pried the little grate open again and put his hand through, searching for the other. “Rick p-please..”

He needed something tangible that wasn’t excruciatingly painful. He needed the comfort of a mangled, blistered, healing hand.

He needed to stop crying.

But of course, he didn’t.

After a while, the pain stopped registering.

Everything did.

It was some sort of numb mental lapse that, in this situation, aptly worked in his favor. Waves of adrenaline combined with the human body naturally reacting to physical trauma with all consuming shock made the present feel as if it was happening distantly, like he wasn’t attached to himself. Disassociative dissonance; self preservation at its’ finest.

The last indescriminate length of time had passed as a blur of sharp blows and taut rope fibers biting into the skin of his wrists, punctuated by cries echoing from the other cell that eventually just… stopped. Or maybe he’d tuned it out, it was hard to tell.

They’d been persecuted in nothing short of a barbaric fashion, and in Ricks’ opinion, the whole thing edged on being plain overdone. But it sure as hell drove the point home.

This was their life now. Contained within their own personal hell, artfully constructed for the sole purpose of fucking with their heads. And it worked.

It worked so well that it was impossible to know for sure if it’d been a matter of hours or days spent in a state of agonizing limbo. All that Rick knew when he hit the ground was that this round of punishment had been particularly unforgiving, but finally over. For now. Until the inevitable next time their dutiful torturers would return.

Coming into his own awareness was a process. It was like shaking off a bad dream while your eyes had been wide open the entire time.

Lying flat on his back with his legs haphazardly splayed, Rick stared blankly into the void where a ceiling should be with an unblinking gaze. His entire body just hurt, from a throbbing headache to toes scraped raw from trying to gain traction against rough concrete while he’d just been… Hanging there.

Damage assessment was difficult to work out in a place this dark, but he tried to figure out how bad off he was anyway. Just because.

It read like a checklist. Shaking, clammy hands. Panting breaths. Deeply indented wrists. Sore knees. Cold sweat. Swollen eye. Bleeding lip.

It was busted right down the middle, and he could taste blood. He reached up to touch it.

“Haaah,” he rasped a harsh breath, throat bone dry and sore. “Ah, ow.”

They’d really torn him up this time. Funny, he couldn’t remember receiving half of these bruises and scrapes littered across his arms, but he could sense them when he moved. He must’ve lost feeling real early on in the session.

Haha, and to think he didn’t even need dope to keep from feeling anything. Punch drunk and miserable, he could - he could almost feel his brain omitting the most unpleasant parts of this experience already. Blocking it aaaall out, crossing out the bad shit in thick lines of black.

The voice calling out his name snapped Ricks’ mental state back into reality. “Huh? R-RRRRickley?” His friend on the other side of the wall sounded severely shaken, but he was there and alive and could speak, which was - it meant they were both okay. More or less.

It took him a minute to army crawl over to the grate, too exhausted to bring himself to stand. “Yeah, I-I’m, ugh, I’m hhhhhere.” Why did his voice sound so rough and worn? It was almost as if it was spent from use, but he couldn’t remember screaming.

The vent gave way easily, and Rick stuck a busted up hand through until bloody fingers brushed against something inside. He could recognize Rickleys’ bony hand anywhere, even when it was in this bad of a condition.

Their touch was the first pleasant thing in what felt like ages, even if the mangled nerves in his fingers screamed. He and Rickley became bound together at the palm perfectly, as if their hands were meant to fold into one another by design.

“Hey.” Rick greeted quietly, resting his head on the floor. “You-” He was interrupted a hacking cough, muffled by his free hand. “Ugh. Y-you okay?” Rick tried to squeeze, but his grip was weak. “Th-those assholes suuuure did a-a number on me. Ha ha.”

The laugh was displaced, unhumorous and hollow. Rick shifted to lie on his side, curling up to fend off this trembling that wracked his shoulders. He wasn’t cold. He didn’t feel it, if he was. “Y-you - you really pulled through, man. That’s - that’s n-not half bad, Rickley.” It wasn’t quite as congratulatory as his words made it seem; spoken with a tinge of mourning. The fact that they’d gone through any of that shit was… it was detrimental to the psyche.

It was a survival strategy. Rick was just trying to talk Rickley up, make the whole thing out to be less horrific by celebrating the victory of… of dealing with it. Swallowing hard, his voice lowered a decibel. “I’m - I’m glad y-you did.”

Rickley didn’t really buy it… sure, he pulled through, but for what? To live through the pain again, to cling to the only friend he had and then be ripped away from him? He didn’t want that. It wasn’t…living.

Rickley just sighed in response, his good hand weakly attempting to squeeze as well, but no dice. He was hungry and thirsty. His stomach felt like it might disappear. He bit his lip and refused to cry, enforcing his emotions down to hold them in with a crudely formed dam.

“We’re gonna die,” he deadpanned, voice quiet and final. “I don’t want to die.”

Not without seeing Plug one last time. He felt something that he couldn’t quite make out in his jumbled mess of emotions. Something he didn’t know he was even capable of feeling anymore.

“D-Don’t lie to me Rick. W-we are going t-to die here, a-aren’t we?”

His small hand went limp in Plug’s and he let his body do the same. He was so utterly exhausted that he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. Though he couldn’t tell the difference between having them opened or closed, anyway.

The silent tears that fell down his cheeks were undetectable. He was too tired to even give any insinuation that he was crying in utter despair.

“I’m sorry.”

I’m weak.

“I’m so sorry.”

They targeted you because I’m weak. And you care about me.

“Fuck… I’m just.. So so.. Sorry.”

You should kill me.

We’re gonna die.

The words struck Rick straight to the core, piercing between the ribs with an intensity that made his chest ache. They weren’t spoken with Rickleys’ usual manner of tentativeness, instead outstanding with an insurmountable weight that forced the breath out of Ricks’ lungs in a huff.

He… he’d spent this whole time putting together a shoddy facade of hope just for Rickleys’ sake, and - and in one fell swoop, it’d been obliterated. Brought down to its’ foundations, deconstructed with one basic statement pointing out the obvious.

There was no reason to pretend anymore. Yet he still tried, for the sake of recovering Rickleys’ will to survive. In turn, for his own.

“N-no, we- w-w-we’re gonna…” God, he couldn’t even bring himself to complete the sentence. It was like the lie wasn’t worth the effort it took to say.

The thing was, it was perfecty reasonable to assume that they’d perish here. They were Ricks, possessing one of the most distinctly intelligent minds in the universe; It wasn’t that hard for them to put two and two together.

For one thing, the reason for their solitary confinement was severe enough to call for their end as troublesome inmates, to be put down like dogs; It was easier that way.

The guards weren’t even delivering regular rounds of food and water to them. It wasn’t… That wasn’t something that happened without purpose.

Don’t lie to me, Rick.

“I-I…” He couldn’t. He couldn’t even force sound to pass over his tongue, at a loss.

Yeah. They were going to die.

The harsh reality was that he and Rickley were going to get beaten until they were too mangled to move, or thirst to death, whichever came first. And then their bodies would get incinerated and nobody would ever know they died and –

“Aha ha ha!” The innappropriately placed laughter burst out of his mouth before he could halt its’ progress, carrying a hint of hysteria. “Ahaha ha, uhhhuh–”

The firm quality to the laugh shifted into something wetter, residing deeper within the chest. The line between hilarity and misery blurred, thinning the barrier between composure and lack thereof. A single unrestrained sob echoed out, the first of its’ kind to rear its’ ugly head;

And it was like he just couldn’t stop himself. Half crying, half laughing, the garbled emotion tumbled out from between his bleeding lips uncontrollably, matching the salty tears rolling freely down his cheeks. He desperately wiped them away with the back of his free hand, pressing rough knuckles to the eye socket in an effort to cease them, push it back from whence it came.

“W-w-w-we are.” There it was: an admittance of their fate. The truth that neither of them wanted to accept, but was impossible not to acknowledge. “W-w-we’re - hrk gon’ d-die, Rickley.”

Honesty never felt good.

“I-I-I–” Plug hiccuped and tried to pull himself together enough to speak clearly. “I don’t wanna hrk d-die either.“

It took quite a turn of events to cause such a change of heart. Some days the pull of death was all he could think about, dwelling on it to find some sort of solace, and he bore the scars and self destructive tendencies to prove it. But now… things were different. He didn’t want to go out like this, not when he’d finally found a reason to fight.

Somebody worth fighting for.

Rickleys’ string of apologies in a monotonous tone recited sorries like last testaments. Was he trying to take the blame? Pin himself as the scapegoat, because of that big X carved into his back and the attention it attracted? He was always so self deprecating, even in the end.

“I-it’s n-not your fault.” His hand tightened around Rickleys’ loose one, holding tight enough for the both of them. “Th-they hrk h-had it out for the - for the both of us.” Since the very beginning, well before the incident with Gamma - why would they have been placed in the same cell if there wasn’t an underlying cause?

“I’m sorry, Rickley.“ His voice grew shaky. “I-I hhhh-have to tell y-you s-something.” It was said with resolve that steadied his messy sobs. Gearing himself up to say something important.

The only reassuring thing about the way Plug spoke was the fact that he wasn’t trying to lie to Rickley anymore. The truth finally came out in a rush of sobs and laughs and it made the man on the other side of the wall feel the same biting nihilism. Tears he couldn’t feel were dripping down his face and he shook his head with a humorless laugh. Nothing mattered.

He kept his fingers closed tightly against Plug’s even if they were going insane, even if they were going to die, even if there was not hope– they still had each other.

Of course it was his fault and Plug’s attempt to shoo that thought away was somewhat weak. But Rickley didn’t really care– it was all ok. At least they’d die together.

The build up to a confession wasn’t something that the Sick Rick was looking forward to. Just another complication. Maybe it would be a truth but it felt like they were competing to make them hate each other– even though that was nearly impossible at this rate.

“What is i-it?” Rickley inquired but he had no time to listen before the footsteps and the sound of a heavy door unlocking prompted him to shove his hand away and slam the grate back on.

In the dim light, he saw a familiar face.

There was this soul crushing element brought about by his lamentation that blanketed a grim mood over them both; The knowing that they would die here was a torture within itself. Genuinity had brought nothing but an added layer of sadness to their already disparaging struggle to maintain.

It was useless. Everything from here on out was a moot point. Ha, and to think that this whole time, they’d been fighting for a future that would never exist.

This… This was the hardest that he’d cried in years. Rick could swear that the last time he’d let himself blubber like this was - it had to have been all the way back when he’d lost everyone. Back before he ever even started selling drugs.

It was interesting, how history tended to repeat itself. It was the same depressing ending to two separate stories, an overwhelming heartbreak. The stark realization hit him in full clarity: in one fell swoop, he was going to lose his friend and his own life without ever accomplishing anything of value. Dying as a failure.

At least he and Rickley were together.

The words belonging to Plugs’ all important something to say were poised on the edge of his tongue, ready to be unsteadily voiced. He stared into the darkness where their hands must meet within the vent, the feeling of their palms more encompassing and solid and real than ever. “R-Rickley, I just w-w-want you to know–“

CLUNK.

The words were cut short mid sentence by the grating of old rusted locks grinding. At first Plug startled, initially thinking that the opening door belonged to his cell;

But with a sinking feeling, he realized that the next bout of violence was destined for Rickley.

In a flash of movement spurred by encroaching danger, Rickleys’ hand simply left his. He could barely feel the graze of fingers as he retreated, the vent clattering back into place.

And Rick couldn’t do anything about it. Arm still outstretched into the vent, hand empty, he tried to fight off a wave of emotion by pressing a fist between his teeth. It felt as if the cavity of his chest had been hollowed out, gutted.

“N-no, n-not yet, not…“ They were going to be murdered without even having the privledge of exchanging last rites, weren’t they? Of course. That was just another cruel twist - the most meaningful things would go unsaid forever.

The breath caught in his throat, suffocating and intense. Reaching up with both battered hands, Rick wrapped his fingers in locks of blue hair. Fuck. Fuck his whole innane life.

It felt like millennia before one of them spoke. The door shut heavily behind the Rick that was clad in the normal guard outfit, but no one could mistake the deep blue eyes and freckled face that was… Tick.

“Rickley, how the h-hell–”

Tick had been ready to brutalize a traitor, not dig up old painful memories of the only one he /truly/ loved–

“How are /you/ in solitary–?”

Rickley stared at him. Icy blue eyes were wide in shock at the man– he looked exactly as he had years prior.

“Its a l-long story.”

Rickley stared down then, cradling his head in a good hand. “Can you just get this over with? I’m tired..”

Tick was… Shocked at that. Rickley’s willingness was not something he’d been expecting. “What? R-Rickley–” his voice quieted to a whisper, “Rickley, no, l-listen.. I’m not going to hurt you..” he was silent for a few minutes, thinking. Rickley closed his eyes and sighed.

“I can get you out…”

Eyes shot open and he whipped his head to look at the freckle faced man. “You can?” he hissed suddenly, eyes flicking to the grate.

Tick nodded cautiously. “I.. I can. I’d do anything for you, R-Rickley.. You know that. You don’t deserve this… we’re both.. Both X’s. I understand.”

Rickley leaned back against the hard wall. “You’d do anything? Would you get me– a-and my friend out? He's… He’s in the cell next to mine.. The.. The ‘'Plug’ Rick..” he chuckled.

Tick’s face screwed up at that, recognizing the alias bitterly but he saw Rickley’s tearful eyes and swallowed his pride. “Yes. I can. I will. Just.. Wait. A couple hours. I’ll be back soon..”

While Plug had been mentally preparing himself for shrieks of pain to follow the ominous silence, a warped conversation rattled through the vent instead. This was… unexpected. What was - what the hell was going on in there?

It wasn’t like Rickley would just strike up a conversation with just anyone. Plug already knew him better than that; Did he and this other Rick… know each other? They spoke with a distant familiarity, like old friends.

I can get you out.

Woah, wait, what?! A jolt of newfound energy bolted through Ricks’ sore limbs, and he could ignore the searing pain in his bruised ribs long enough to flip himself effortlessly over onto his elbows. He’d been totally and completely accepting of the fact they were dying here before, but when given a glimmer of promise to hold on to, now he - he wasn’t okay with this. Oh holy jesus. Ohhhhh motherfucking shit, he wanted out.

Pressing his ear against the grate to listen in eagerly, he tried to control his frantic huffs of breath long enough to eavesdrop effectively. The tears on his face had gone cold, meaningless to him now in the face of possible escape, and he wiped them away on his forearm.

Both X Ricks? There must be some interdimensional brotherhood between that label, something gone unspoken. Rickley had said that the reason all the others were against him was because he was an X, so - what was another X doing here as a guard?

Rick could feel a migraine coming on. This was a lot of puzzle pieces to put together when he was this physically and mentally exhausted.

Rickley… he vouched for him? Oh thank fuck. He held his breath waiting for an answer from the mysterious third party.

Yes. What? No fucking way. They were getting help from somebody on the inside?

“R-Rickley!” Plug called through the grate, an excited note in his tone barely contained. “W-who the fuck was that? A-are they serious o-or–” He swallowed, suddenly unsure of the queasy rush of hope fueling him. “Or just f-fucking with us?”

Rickley watched the door close, and jumped slightly at Plug’s desperate voice. He turned to the grate and opened it, reaching his hand inside to grasp his.

“H-he’s not fucking with us. I-Its a long story. I know him… from a long time ago. He’d do anything for me.”

There was a sad bitterness in his tone but he didn’t acknowledge it.

“He’ll be back soon. We're… We’re gonna get out of here…”

Meanwhile, Tick was getting to work, asking the boss if he could ‘kill’ to make an example. The answer, of course, was yes, and Tick said a quick thank you.

The freckle faced man pulled two body bags from the morgue, carrying them easily towards solitary. It was time to test their acting skills.  
\--

The light that cracked through the heavy cell door was agonizingly bright, searing Ricks’ retinas to near blindness. Stumbling clumsily to his aching feet, he threw up a hand to fend off the fluorescent assault to the senses - only to find the opening blotted out by two figures standing shoulder to shoulder.

Shit. Their little friend on the inside hadn’t been fast enough to save them from another round of beating. The guards were back already, and –

Wait. The lurching footsteps of one figure was a dead giveaway of something amiss, and when paired with a distinctively thin outline, it was conclusive to identity. Plugs’ heartbeat quickened within his ribcage, hammering against bone. The silhouette rushing forward belonged to one other than-!

“Rickley!” The hushed exclaimation was goaded by surprise as bruised arms enthusiastically wrapped around Ricks’ shoulders, enclosing him in a firm embrace. The other man pressed himself against his torso with enough force to wrest the breath out of Plugs’ diaphragm with an “oof”.

Unable to contain a likeminded, consuming relief, Plugs’ arms immediately secured over Rickleys’ bony frame in return. It wasn’t like him to brandish such strong mutual affection, but this entire experience had brought up a loooot of feelings that he’d been entirely convinced were as dead as they should be.

Face buried in Rickleys’ shoulder, fingers digging into the grimy orange jumpsuit, Rick clung to him like it was the last opportunity they’d ever have.

Shit - they’d only been separated for a matter of days, but it felt like it’d been so much longer. Maybe it was the threat of death hanging over their heads that emphasized the passage of time. It didn’t matter. They were together.

But they weren’t out of the woods yet. Not even close to reaching the tree line.

Squinting hard in an attempt to force his eyes to adjust to the drastic difference in lighting, Rick struggled to pick out differentiating factors pertaining to the third person in the room. Full guard garb, complete with the steel toed boots and commanding attitude, with… freckles? Or were those just a result of poor eyesight and warped shadow?

Blinking away the specks left in his vision, his gaze drifted down to the alarming presence of two body bags on the floor. The thick black plastic crinkled morbidly when they were moved. They looked… occupied.

There was a mannerism of speaking that came off oddly familiar about this guy - but Rick chalked it up to the considerable fact that most of their kind had the misfortune of looking and sounding awfully similar. Ugh, it felt like the words blurred together - Switching their bodies out? Take them to a jeep? Just drop them off somewhere, like this wasn’t a big deal?

The promises were tantalizing, almost too good to be true. Separating himself from Rickley and wrapping an arm around his back for support on unsteady feet instead, Rick tried his damndest to work out which question he wanted to ask first. Not much of this was making a lot of sense to a strained mind. “Who are–? Wuh-why are you-?“

Quickly catching himself, Rick decided against his initial inquiries. No, that wasn’t what was important. “Wait, woah, b-back up. W-w-whats y-your plan?” Because he suuuure had a bad feeling about those bags.

Rickley pressed himself against Plug, staying as close as possible. He’d been starved of affection and missed the warm, secure hold of his friend– no matter how brief they usually were.

The Sick Rick looked over at Plug when he asked the question. He just wanted out of here, and they were running out of time–

“You’re going to need to get into those body bags. Yes, they’re full– but its only for a few minutes. When I load both of you into the jeep, I will take you to an undisclosed location to get you out and portal you to a dimension– a /safe/ one… And leave you with a portal gun that has no ties to the Citadel.”

Oh good, the body bags came with dead Ricks in them. And they were expected to what, trade places with them and get zipped up inside?

Yeah. That seemed like it couldn’t possibly be a setup to throw them right in the incinerator alive, or anything. Not to mention the issue of how sanitary the insides of those things must be. There were reasons that human bodies were sealed away in hazmat plastic.

Really? This was the plan? Plug couldn’t help but shoot an incredulous look at Tick before his gaze returned to the unmoving black shapes with a degree of concern that didn’t make itself scarce.

There were burning questions poisoned on the edge of his tongue, a dozen scattered fragments of whys across his brain, but it all went silent when he met Rickleys’ eyes. They shimmered with fear and a pleading - just go with it. Take the shot. Trust me on this one.

This was their only chance. Getting help offered to them inside the prickson was a one in a billion freak accident - one that maybe, just maybe would buy them a ticket to freedom. It was now or never.

Plug was prepared to do anything if it meant he and Rickley got out of here alive. Even if that meant playing dead and putting his life in a strangers’ hands.

“F-fuck. Okay.” He relented to Ticks’ course of action, albeit with a curse, stepping forward to give one of the bags a nervous nudge with a bare foot. The flesh beneath was rigid with rickermortis and as still as he’d have to be. “L-lets do this shit.”

The zipper whipped open when he pulled, the plastic spreading to reveal a mirror image staring back at him with milky eyes of death. It looked like this guy hadn’t met his end kindly, judging by the sheen of blood coating the inside of the bag. Nice.

And now he had to touch this shitstain, flop him out of the plastic like a piece of raw chicken. Fuck his whole life.

“H-help me out here,” he requested, finding the strength in his limbs weakened. It felt like some of the bruises on his skin went right down to the bone and sapped his energy. With a little help and a grunt, he managed to free a space for himself, and stared down at the empty bag, psyching himself up for it.

This was fine. He’d just go ahead and climb in like this wasn’t a horrifying, entrapping experience. It was uh - it was just like a sleeping bag. This was going to be like the most fucked up slumber party ever.

Pushing every thought about how he really didn’t want to get sealed up in this aside, Rick shimmied in and expectantly waited for Tick to do the honors of pulling the zipper up over him.

Just before it reached his face, one of Plugs’ hands shot out and clutched Tick by the wrist. “I don’t. Like small spaces,” he informed shortly, releasing his grip. “A-and I don’t know why y-you’re doing this. S-so, one Rick to another: don’t kill us blind.” It was a simple request, voiced out of natural suspicion; Rick was all too aware of how vulnerable of a position he opted into. It was all up to Ticks’ discretion now.

Tick was mostly helping Rickley now– gently lowering the frail man into the disgusting bag and looking at him with such admiration… Before zipping it up nearly the whole way, but leaving enough for him to speak and breathe.

When Tick was about the zip up the bag but was stopped, Plug was quickly answered by a muffled Rickley.  
“He /won’t/ kill us, Rick. I know him. Very well.. And he wont,” he said simply before trying to regain his breath through the stale air and limited amount of fresh air.

Tick nodded slightly before zipping Plug’s back a bit more, but not the whole way. He shoved the two unidentified Rick corpses into the corner of the room, where they wouldn’t be seen. Using his brute strength, Tick began to drag the bags out of the room and towards the loading docks for the military vehicles.

“Sorry, Rickley,” he whispered, “I h-hope its not hurting you…” he said, referring to the dragging on the rough concrete. Luckily, the bags were durable enough to stay intact.

Finally making it to the jeep, Tick hauled the bags into the back and got in, turning on the ignition. His freckled face was emotionless.

If not for Rickleys’ words, Plug might have found it outright impossible to put faith in Tick. It wasn’t exactly like there were a whole lot of Ricks out there who would go out of their way to help others, much less one that was employed as a guard… But if Rickley was this confident and sure? He’d fly with it. A brisk nod in return to the sentiment was a wordless agreement to terms.

A tangent of split second suspicion crossed Ricks’ mind; there was something a little strange about the way that Tick favored Rickley. They knew each other very well indeed, judging by the way Rickley vyed in favor of his trustworthiness, by how he’d caught him been helped into their unusual mode of escape out of the corner of his eye –

The thought was pushed to the farther reaches of his mind, replaced in favor by a creeping sense of anxiety lancing up his spine. This was going to go one of two ways: failure resulting in their death, or success. The consequences of getting caught were steep.

The dim light from outside narrowed down to a slit that filtered in between zipper teeth. The air trapped inside the plastic was dense and unventilated, and the pessimistic side of Ricks’ thoughts couldn’t help but question how long this bag had housed a body. Hours? Days? Weeks?

Suppressing a shudder, he tried to ignore the thick plastic clinging to his limp limbs oppressively, trying not to think about how he was left only a tiny gap to breathe. If Tick really wanted to, he could cut off air circulation entirely and let him suffocate.

Thaaaat definitely wasn’t the best thought to harbor whilst pretending to be dead, being dragged feet first down a hallway. The concrete against his back was only dully shielded, scraping along grooves and cracks. The sensation wasn’t kind to a myriad of sore spots littering his ribs, and he could only imagine that rickley was experiencing much of the same.

But they stayed quiet, dutifully playing their role as the dead. Even when they were lifted into the bed of a truck, the engine rumbling to life below their backs.

Was this working? Oh shit, this was actually working.

What the fuck were the chances of this? Rickley came through with his little buddy here. They were so close to freedom, Rick could almost taste it on the back of his tongue, feel a flighty urge in his stomach;

He tried not to fidget, peering out of the gap with one eye squeezed shut. He spoke cautiously, voice was severely muffled and breath reflecting hot air right back against his face. “W-we cool yet?”

Rickley was not happy about the smell or the gore covering his body from being inside the bag for so long, but at least he could say he was used to the scent of dead Ricks.

The rumble of the jeep underneath them brought a relief to Rickley’s brain and he let out a sigh, coughing slightly and in need of fresh air. Tick obliged a moment later, unzipping the bag and Plug’s a minute later. “Yeah, we’re good.”

Tick turned back to the wheel and continued driving. They were in the middle of seemingly nowhere on a dirt road that was looked like was in the middle of a desert. He continued to drive until they were out of Citadel jurisdiction.

Rickley peeled the body bag off of him and shuddered, looking over at Plug. Although his face was covered in sticky blood, he was smiling.

The sharp whip of the zipper undoing was met with appreciative haste. Rick burst out of the suffocating bag and sucked in a much needed lungful of air untainted by the scent of death incarnate, sitting upright and kicking the black plastic away as he struggled to get his bearings.

The natural light was enough to incite Rick to wince away. He’d become accustomed to the dark and the low wattage bulbs inside the prisons’ corridors. These intense rays brought everything into a crisper image, and he forced himself to squint up at the open sky - a sight that he’d been sure he’d never see again.

Not a single element of their former prison housing existed in the expansive view around the jeep. Tires bounced over rocky and uneven terrain, throwing up a cloud of dust that tailed their escape caravan. Rick blinked and looked down at his hands, finding them coated in a rusty hue.

It was hard to gauge where his own blood began and where the former bodybag occupants’ ended. Grime and repulsive mystery fluids coated his standard issue jumpsuit and matted blue hair, his limbs felt like they might fall apart at the seams from exhaustion alone;

But holy fuck, they’d made it.

Despite the state of filth that should inspire only a reaction of viceral disgust, Plug instead displayed an ear to ear smile that he beamed in Rickleys’ direction. They just couldn’t stop grinning at each other, basking in an unlikely triumph.

“Ha ha, Rickley!” The enthusiasm sat upon features worn down by stress and pain, purplish ringed eyes still puffy from crying just hours earlier. “I mean, I knew w-we’d be leaving in a-aaa body bag, but this? Ha!” He let out another hearty laugh, finding the irony of their getaway too much to handle with a straight face.

The hilarity quickly ebbed away, leaving them both shaken and battered and more alive than ever. He clapped a bruised hand on Rickleys’ shoulder, giving a light shake. “I-I told you w-we had a ‘nother hundred years on us.”

Rickley couldn’t get his smile to go away. The cuts on his face burned from the sweat and now the tears that streamed down his cheeks, heart swelling with happiness and relief. The jeep bumped over the rocky terrain as Rickley crawled over to Plug, pulling him in for a hug. Gentle and unrestraining… Less desperate and more triumphant.

“E-everything’s gonna.. G-gonna be okay… I… I’m so happy…” his bright blue eyes sparkled as he moved to look up at Plug, his heart fluttering and giddy.

Tick said nothing until a few minutes later when the truck stopped, and the freckled Rick tossed a portal gun back to them. The jealousy was painfully evident in Tick’s demeanor, but he wouldn’t fuck with Rickley’s happiness. That’s just how things worked.


	2. Heart Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second roleplay in the series, this one doesn't quite have an ending because of personal reasons, the whole hospital scenes were basically skipped. Like i said this is unedited, just so that i can archive the rp. If you read it and like it, thank you!

The incredible feeling of warmth that spread through Rickley’s being at the hug and smile was nothing like he’d ever felt before. He felt so incredibly goddamn free– it was just so amazing.

The man turned his face to Tick and gave him a smile, knowing the man’s dark blue eyes were filled with pain even if he couldn’t see it. Rickley knew the Rick loved him. But… He didn’t have time to worry about that now. He was a dead man walking– both he and Plug were. And they were fucking /free/.

No more Gamma, no more guards, no more solitary. Just free.

He turned from Tick for one last time and focused on Plug, ice blue eyes wide and sparkling with happiness. He took the portal gun into his hand and spin the coordinates like a roulette chamber, shooting out the green portal. He looked to Plug, nodding slightly.

“We’re leaving this all behind,” he said softly, “And never fucking coming back.”

For people who never expected to keep their lives long enough to witness a glimpse of anything outside of prison walls again, the two of them were understandably giddy. This newfound breath of freedom provided a surge of energy, forged by hope for the boundless future.

And they were never fucking coming back. The words served to announce a testament, a promise that would never go unbroken. Plug squeezed Rickleys’ shoulders to his side in comrauderie. The both of them had lost enough weight to bump rib against rib through thin fabric. “F-fuck yeah, dawg! W-we ouuuut this bitch.“ The smile he wore was lopsided, lips curled back in a display of genuine optimism. He hasn’t felt this good in years.

The dials on the portal rotated through numbers wildly, setting their course. "A-alright, Rickley!” Everything that had pertained to their identities before was no more, smashed into pieces. From here on out they could carve their own path, figure out how to navigate through the endless random dimensional planes all over again. The past was death row, the future a game of chance. “L-let’s do this shit.”

With Rickley half supported on his own tired frame, they crossed the threshold of the portal with eager speed despite their shaky legs. Plug wanted to put as much distance between himself and prickson as physically possible, hauling his friend along for the ride. Arm in arm, they were all they had.

Stepping from the jeep bed to a grassy precipice upon a mountain shaped like a fourth dimensional hexagon wasn’t exactly the most ideal first run. There was nothing in sight for miles except for steep cliffs and impossible geometry. “R-Rickley, y-you just - just keep us going ‘til w-we find a bar.”

It took a few tries to hit a good dimension. There was so much weird shit in between the gems, or at least the halfway decent places - alien wastelands with strange creatures, a planet populated entirely by corn cobs, greasy grandma world. They kept getting the shit end of the stick.

But their luck turned swiftly, as it tended to do. They emerged into a barrage of vehicular noise and motion, the perfect place for two lonely travelers to wind up:

By the side of the intergalactic highway, nestled up right against a grimy truck stop. “Oh sh-shit! W-we scored!”

It certainly didn’t come off as much more than a weathered building covered in space grime, but Rick knew better. This was the perfect place to slip by relatively unnoticed, blend in with visiting outlandish otherworldly beings long enough to get cleaned up. Limbo places like these with high turnover traffic was an ideal place to get themselves together. “I-I can’t tell you how many times a-aaa place like this helped me out.” This gross old public restroom was going to be their saving grace. “I-I bet they’ve got a shower a-and everything, Rickley.”

Speaking retrospectively, they were in absolutely shit shape. First things first, they needed to ditch the bright orange jumpsuits that gave away their position as escaped convicts, not to mention scrub putrid blood off their skin. Who knew what they could contract from lying in those bags. “C-c'mon, buddy. W-we gotta - we gotta see if they got those vending machines with clothes in 'em.”

The genuine happiness that Rickley exhibited as soon as they left that damned dimension was… Nearly unrealistic for the man. He couldn’t stop smiling, even of it took a couple hours for them to find a good enough dimension where they’d fit in.

Plug’s enthusiasm rubbed off on him when they came upon the grimy dimension– but it was perfect for them, anyway. It looked like the perfect place to get wasted and start all over again.

An overwhelming feeling of affection seized Rickley’s heart and he turned to Plug and grasped his hand tightly, his body trembling with excitement and nervousness. He just couldn’t comprehend that they were finally free.

The aspect of money was a problem that they could worry about later, and Rickley already knew pretty well how to get cash on the streets. He had a feeling Plug wouldn’t be fond of his method, but it was easier than trying to attack and rob people. At least on his opinion.

This shit was - it was panning out perfectly, even against all odds that had stood stacked sheerly against their survival efforts. It defied reason. When did things ever turn out right for bottom barrel Ricks?

Look at them. A couple of felons on the lamb, standing next to the bustling intergalactic interstate shivering against one anothers’ sides in anticipation. They had nowhere to go but forward.

Caught up in waves of excitement that made his heart flutter, Ricks’ palm abruptly found itself pressed against his friends’. He couldn’t help but allow his fingers to slip into Rickleys’, reciprocating the touch with a firm squeeze. Clasped hand in hand tightly, they stood nearly cheek to cheek at only a few inches width apart, grinning like madmen. Rick briefly bumped his brow against Rickleys’ temple with a raspy breath of a laugh.

“Hah! Y-yeah, I-I know, right?“ The pure thrill of freedom was exhilarating, tangling hopelessly in their veins. They were probably the happiest Ricks on this side of the universe. “It’s perfect. That’s - that right there is our ticket to normalcy, R-Rickley.“

The residual adrenaline provided Rick enough strength to tug his mirror image in stride as they limped up the fractured asphalt towards the dirty roadside stop. Floating transport vehicles groaned in place whilst a few space truckers wandered the grounds, sending only passive looks in the pairs’ direction. The two of them fit right in amongst a scene of general disarray and filth.

“W-we just gotta get this shit off us, Rickley,” Rick was saying under his breath. “A-and then - then we can go find us some of those - those motherfuckin’ sangrias.“ Just like they’d talked about, back when it’d been just a fantasy to fill the void of misery. “Trust me, w-we’re home free as fuck.”

Panting with effort, Plug shouldered open the door impatiently and beelined for the grungey sinks embedded into stonework counters littered with used paper towels. Water! Releasing his friend from his grasp where Rickley could lean against the ledge on his own,

Rick turned the handle to full blast and promptly shoved his face under a faucet to drink.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever been this thirsty before in his life. It didn’t matter for a second if the water was a dingy grey - it was the first he’d had in too long, and slurped it up loudly. Dry and cracked lips began to feel hydrated again, sandpaper tongue no longer a burden between his teeth. He almost didn’t mind the strange underlying metallic taste that coincided with outdated piping.

”Aaaahhholy shit,“ he finally slurred when he stopped to breathe, wiping the back of a shaky hand across his lips. The taste of water on his tongue was sweet and energizing, giving him a much needed kick to get through.

Lifting his head, Ricks’ eyes centered in on a set of blue across from him. The image reflected upon the surface of the dingy mirror affixed to the wall made him pause, jaw slightly agape. The person staring back was different than he had been only weeks ago.

For one thing, the face belonging to the man in the mirror was noteably gaunt - at least, it was where bruises didn’t swell the flesh into uncomfortable knots resting under one eye. The cheekbones were concave, eyes heavily lidded and purplish-black from lack of sleep and constant stress and tension. Jeez, he must’ve been shedding the pounds faster than his frayed sanity. The prison environment certainly hadn’t done him any favors.

“Damn. I-I look like hell,” he bleakly commentated, pulling at his lip with a grimy finger. It was split and scabby, stinging when he exposed his yellowed teeth. Was that a chipped tooth?

It didn’t matter. They were alive. “L-look at us, Rickley, i-it’s not all bad. I-I bet we- we could be models w-with these waists.“ It was a low blow of a joke, but the first one he’d made in a while. Neither of them got out unscathed, not by far; He was trying to make light of their rail thin torsos.

Washing his face clean of debris, Rick tried to avoid eye contact with the scraggly Rick in the dirty mirror, redirecting his attention to observing the room. The place was pretty typical of most pitstops, complete with a washroom that Rick normally wouldn’t dare step into if not for the current situation that urged him to throw caution to the wind.

But first they needed clothes to change into. These places always had something up their sleeve, tucked out of sight–

Ha! In the corner stood a vending machine nestled between Florps and Gorps and something that vaguely resembled a sanitary pad dispenser rested a machine labeled Fresh Threadz.

“Oh man, is-isn’t this a-aaa convenient plot device, R-Rickley?” He pressed a hand against the scratched plexiglass, peering in. “Th-there’s even - there’s my outfit in there.” The reach of Ricks truly ran deep in the multiverse. Wardrobes across vast expanses of spacetime always seemed to carry a spare set of slacks and white overcoats.

The thing he’d forgotten to consider was how they were going to find enough cash to feed the vending machine. “Fuck. I-it takes flurbos.“ This was quite the predicament. “H-hold on-” But if he pried off the control pad just so, twisted apart these wires –

Clothes spilled out onto the floor in a heap. Looks like his skills hadn’t been dampened by being imprisoned at all. “W-we have a winner!” Rick announced like they’d just won a slot machine, holding up a familiar white coat. Finally, he could wear what he was most comfortable in, slip it on like a second skin. After he showered. Attending to their wounds could come later once they’d returned their appearances back to normal instead of some zombified version of what they would’ve looked like had they not made it.

The jumpsuit was already halfway off by the time he pulled the curtain closed and blasted the water. “I-it’s hot!” A luxury of which they’d been deprived. “Ha!”

Plug’s eccentric attitude was the only thing keeping him from freaking out. Anxiety was beginning to dig into his skin as new beings and creatures gave them passing glances. The chances of being recognized were astronomically low– they were /dead/ Ricks– but Rickley was always paranoid.

The man brought water to his mouth much more slowly, washing his grimy face off and letting out a soft sigh of relief. The high of escaping was wearing off, and he was just really tired now. And he wanted a bed.

Turning to the machine that Rick had just broken into, he modestly picked out a blue sweater and black slacks, something that was similar to what has usually wear. If these were the only clothes they’d have for a while, he wanted to be comfortable.

Following Plug towards the showers, he bit his lip in indecision. Should they shower together? He felt safer in numbers. Plug was already in there with the water running, so he quickly went to the shower next to him and stripped himself of the disgusting jumpsuit.

Turning the faucet, he let the hard hot water spray over his aching, bruised body. It was honestly the best he’d felt in a long, long time.

Rickley didn’t say anything as he washed off the grime and blood, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh. He didn’t know what they’d have to do to get those promised sangrias, but he did want a drink real bad. So he’d probably do anything.

Like… Steal a creatures flurbos in the stall over.  
Maybe when he was done soaking on that wonderful, scalding hot water…

The hot beads of water stung as sharply as salt rubbed into open wounds. It was only by the grace of the showerhead that Rick could feel various cuts and scratches embedded into skin, stabbing exposed nerve endings like needles and knife points. Each brush of his hands made apparent the bruises that lie underneath grime, or the places where flesh was torn. Nothing that wouldn’t heal, more than likely leaving him with another scar or two for his growing collection.

Blood swirled down the drain with a diluted crimson finality. With the filth came a relief that overwhelmed Rick to the point of hanging his head and pressing palms against his tired eyes. Fuck, he felt like he could lie down and sleep for days.

Looking back on everything that had transpired, he… He hadn’t been that neck deep in trouble in a while. That out of control of a situation. Not since –

Rick shook his head to clear it. The past wasn’t worth looking back on now - reminiscing was pointless. He had a lot of shit to do if he wanted to get a semblance of his life on track. So he turned off the water and tried to psyche himself up, mentally piece together a game plan as he dripped dry.

Oh man, did he need to drink some alcohol. It felt like a fiery itch crawling through his neuron receptors, strained from the overtaxation of emotion. He wanted to get so fucking drunk and forget everything.

Throwing on his familiar old outfit was refreshing, fitting his persona like a glove. Brown pants, blue shirt, the whole nine yards that expressed Rick. He never throughly he’d be this thankful for the presence of shoes and more importantly, long sleeves. Seeing those scars littered across his forearms every time he looked down just wasn’t his style.

Besudes, this was much better than that shitty jumpsuit. He admired the way the coat lapels lay flat on his chest in the mirror, running fingers through damp blue hair in idle primping.

Rickley wasn’t looking half bad when he stepped out. The sweater cast over his shoulders hung like it was on a hanger, but it provided the illusion of hiding his frailty. It suited him, in its’ own way. “N-nice,” Plug commented lazily. “W-we’re both fresh as fuck, dawg. Ready to hit th-the club.”

Side by side, the two of them almost looked like regular people instead of ex criminals who had recently broken out of an institution. Almost. The black eyes and demeanor of numb tiredness sort of gave away something amiss, but that was alright.

“L-listen Rickley,” Plug began as he tossed an arm casually over his friends’ shoulder, “W-w-we gotta figure out how to get out shit together r-real quick. Put it all in a bag s-so it’s together, you feel me?”

They were lacking a lot of vital shit. The only thing they had to their collective name was the portal gun resting in Plugs’ pocket. “M-my money’s all - it’s all gone, Rickley. W-we gotta find some cash out here in the- in the streets.” His expression became tinged by a mischief. “A-and w-we should steal it.”

Anything was legal as long as you didn’t get caught. These truckers were sitting ducks, preoccupied with cleaning themselves up or getting gas. It was a theives’ den. “Y-you go look through that guy’s stuff and -” He pointed a finger at the clothes hanging over the stall just behind Rickley, “A-and I’ll go check the others’.” At the far end.

When Rickley dried off and put his clothes back on, he already felt a million times better than he had before. Color had returned to his previously ashen face, and his lips were already less cracked and dry.

Plug’s voice was still distinctly jovial but had a tinge of seriousness in it. They would have to steal to be able to survive, and Rickley wasn’t new to stealing. He just… Knee of more efficient ways that would get them in a lot less trouble. At least, they wouldn’t be thrown back in jail.

But this was an intergalactic truck stop for fuck’s sake, and this was going to be as easy as taking candy from an infant. Rickley was sure of it.

He nodded at Plug’s plan and made his way to the lump of clothes that sat on the bench outside of the stall. He tore through the useless stuff and found a pouch of flurbos hidden among stained trousers. Easy.

He quickly pocketed the coins and left the pouch as it had been, turning to look at Plug over his shoulder, wondering what the other man had found.

As far as things went, scrounging through others’ possessions wasn’t the worst tactic to implement in a pinch. It wasn’t the lowest point that a Rick could stoop to for cash, not by far; that wasn’t what bugged him.

It’d just… Been a while since he’d been so goddamn broke. That drug game he’d been playing always brought in enough riches to buy him just about anything he needed, and he’d become accustomed to the financial comfort.

Which stood as a stark difference against what he was reduced to now - picking around in random strangers’ clothes in hopes of finding enough money to survive. The days of plenty were all in the past, he supposed. But it wasn’t all bad; fishing hands into unattended pockets produced some surprisingly successful results.

Oh boy. If Rickley had gathered anything of value, Plug was confident that his find would easily outdo him. With a wide grin spreading from ear to ear, Rick caught his companions’ inquisitive glance and held up a curled hand in response.

Between thumb and forefinger hung something reflective and silvery, metal jangling in an announcement when Rick lightly shook his treasure. “Ch-check it out, Rickley!” They were a set of car keys, clinking against one another on a oversized ring. They hit the fucking jackpot! A mode of transportation was exactly what they needed to get their collective shit together.

Rick hardly wasted time standing around. Albeit with a sore lurch to his gait that brought a subtle wince to his features, he made for the door doubletime. “C-c'mon, dawg!” He encouraged, waving to motion his alternate to follow closely. “W-we gotta jack th-this fuckers ride a-aaand cruise.”

The two of them stepped outside the dingy truck stop and into the parking lot looking like two entirely different people than the blood soaked husks they’d limped in as. It felt good to be back to their old selves - or at least as close as they could come on such short notice.

The receiver on the set of keys blinked as it searched for reception, Rick holding the fab above his head. There were only a few vehicles around, but the one who’s headlights responded just so happened to be the only truck without a trailer.

It was all theirs for the taking. Without a shred of hesitation or forethought, Rick pulled open the drivers side door and slipped in behind the wheel.

“Oh man, R-Rickley, this is - this is bitchin’.” Despite the torn corner of the wide bench seat where stuffing came out, the cramped cabin littered with fast food wrappers, and a kitchy alien hula girl bobble attached to the dash, Rick found their new ride to be more than satisfactory. “Sh-shit, dawg. This is a-aaa real homie wagon. Low rider a-as fuck.” He ran the scraped palms of his hands along the rough camo patterned cover on the steering column.

The keys slipped into the ignition and the truck grumbled to life with a great quaking below their feet. The engine shook hard enough to feel in their shared seat, which jumped and groaned more severely as Rick struggled with the stick shift. “Yeah! Rick a-and R-Rickley are outta here!”

It didn’t take him too long to figure out how to drive the bulky thing, making a careless u-turn in the lot before heading towards the galactic interstate onramp. “I-I dunno ‘bout you, R-Rickley, but we - we shoud deeeefinitely hit a Taco Hell.” He was so hungry that it was clouding his mind; how long had it been since their last meal? That slop they got served wasn’t even worth calling food. “I need like, fourteen chalupas, R-Rickley.”

Rickley’s head was spinning at the sheer luck of catching this ride. Fuck, he wasn’t in the Citadel anymore– they weren’t watching him and he wouldn’t get caught so fucking easily–

He didn’t have to be so regretful about everything.

Damn, it was freeing to be able to do this. Not worry about the shitty guards on his tail. Not worry about that X on his back.

Rickley sat in the shotgun seat and leaned back on the torn fabric, letting out a sigh. Fuck that was nice. Probably the most comfortable seat he’d had in ages.

“Make that double, we need 27 chalupas. Shit. I mean 28. What the fuck is math,” Rickley let out a breathless, happy laugh. “Wh-who knows man.. We’re… We’re fucken, fucken free!”

Rickley looked over at Plug and his heart lurched with a feeling he didn’t recognize. A shiver ran through his body and he pressed his hand against the other’s shoulder. Like a thanks. Or something.

He was smiling too hard.

The lone notion of alcohol by itself sounded irresistible to Rick; a craving he and Rickley shared intensely. They were like dogs on the hunt as they sat on the edge of their seats, scanning outside for anywhere that looked like it served booze. Getting drunk as fuck would feel like finally reaching water after crossing a dry desert, the sweetest relief–

And then there it was.

Following the attention directed by Rickleys’ enthusiastic pointing, Rick fumbled and leaned over his friends’ lap to get a good look through his passenger side window. Lo and behold, there stood a bar by the side of the road, their saving grace;

It wasn’t anything short of a typical touristy sort of dive, a real pseudo feelgood stop. Its’ forefront presented a tiki theme with thatched roofing and bamboo sides, giving off a beachside vibe. It practically screamed fruity cocktails and cold pitchers.

“Oh, f-fuck yeah!” Plug exclaimed, throwing his hands on the oversized wheel and spinning it hard. Their stolen ride whipped into the parking lot, albeit almost teetering on one side of the tires due to force. It came to rest out front neatly parked in a space, and Rick yanked the keys out of the ignition in understandable eagerness to get going. “W-we poppin’ the biiiiigest bottles tonight!“

Climbing out of the door and waltzing on up to the place, Plug threw an arm over the shoulder of the other Rick that kept in his stride. “W-we got a lot to celebrate, R-Rickley!” He pulled him in for a half-hug as they walked, squeezing his opposite shoulder. “Tonight w-we’re going all out. N-no brakes on this train, dawg!”

If it seemed corny on the outside, it went double for the interior. When Plug threw open the door they were greeted by a slow crowd and a wraparound bartop surrounded by pastel stools, wicker fan blades and plastic plants and surf boards. It was so overplayed that it felt familiar and homey.

And Plug just couldn’t stop beaming over the scene for the life of him. This was a little slice of paradise. The rainbow of liquor bottles on the shelves behind the bar glittered like stars, their contents beckoning.

Taking a seat, Rick slapped a hand down on the bartop to draw their bartender over, who glanced disinterestedly over them with froglike eyes sitting at the top of its head. "Hook us up w-with two pitchers of sangria.” Plug held up two fingers with one hand, leaning elbows on the finished wood. “A-aaand make ‘em strong.”

Rick had his priorities in order - he wasn’t going to let them leave here with even a shred of sobriety. “Wait, wait - first give us some - some burbon shots.” He held up four fingers, signaling how many he wanted. Two for each of them. The twinkle in his eye as he smiled over at his friend was bright and happy; he didn’t think he’d rather be out drinking with anybody else. “R-Rickley, do some shots with me, man! W-we gotta - gotta make a toast.”

Rickley’s heart jumped when Plug looked at him with such happiness and hugged him like that. It made the tacky, roadside bar feel much more homely and like a haven. Somewhere he could talk to Plug freely without being afraid of surveillance and beating and shock prods…

He sat next to the man at the bar, a goofy smile on his face as Plug ordered their drinks. Hell yeah. Shots, sangria– god. He’d feel so much better.

"Toast to getting away f-from those p-p-pricks hahaha!” Rickley said, shimmering blue eyes wide with life as he held out the fresh shot that the bartender had slid over to him.

The semi-opaque brown liquor sparkled in their shot glasses on the countertop, catching the ambient bluish light. For a second, Plug thought he could see himself grinning like a madman in the surface reflection. Or maybe it was Rickleys’ smile. It was hard to tell when they were both this fucking happy.

Holding the little glass between thumb and forefinger, Rick made it a point to tink the rims of their shots together. "Ha! To - to n-no more pricks!” He paraphrased, tossing back the drink with ease. No more prison Ricks. No more cages.

The burn in his esophagus was enough to make him melt, eyelids fluttering closed in satisfaction. A sting of alcohol in the back of the nose was a welcome feeling, the burning in his gut practically devine. Even better than those indulgent chalupas.

Holy fuck, he’d missed alcohol.

Turning the first glass over, Rick picked up the second one and weighed it in his hands as he regarded his companion. "F-from now on, th-the only bars we’re gonna be behind are these ones, Rickley.” He knocked a knuckle on the bartop to highlight what he meant. They were going to cruise around and get too wasted to walk in every boozey establishment they came across and they were never going back.

He already felt like his old self again, carrying a more casual and looser vibe than before he’d gotten a taste of hard liquor. “Hah! I don’t - I-I don’t even ever w-wanna see another Rick again.” He was pretty sick of ‘em all now, as if he hadn’t been before. Well, all but just one. “'Cept you.”

More than prepared to down the second shot, Rick held it up instead for Rickley to follow suit with. “Here’s to - to us being friends, Rickley!”

Rickley drank the alcohol like a dehydrated man would water– swift and desperate. Everything was going to be better now that he was with Plug and it was just them.

And Rick was right. He didn’t want to see any other of their kind– except for him. Because somewhere underneath he felt… Something. Plug’s sparkling eyes struck a feeling in his heart that he though was dead– but maybe not.

Friends…  
Somewhere deep down, they both knew it was /more/.

Rickley smiled wide and raised his shot glass as well, downing the bourbon at the toast and letting out a long sigh that was far from satisfied… They still got those pitchers of sangria to drink.  
"I’m glad we’re together…” he said softly.

The toast to their friendship went down with mutual zeal, like Plug couldn’t swallow the shot fast enough. It’d been too long since his last drink; he couldn’t help but knock ‘em back with abandon. “That'ssssthe shit,” he slurred under his breath, the empty glass thunking down on the table with finality.

When he looked up, he wasn’t surprised to catch Rickleys’ gaze cast in his direction. They couldn’t stop sending each other bright-eyed looks, exchanging silent excitement blended with overwhelming relief. They were too cheerful to even stay still in their seats.

I’m glad we’re together. Yeah, he could share on that sentiment. At least they’d gotten one good thing out of their time in that hellhole of a prison. “W-what can I say, R-Rickley?” His grin grew a little wider. “It’s - it’s just Rick and Rickley, am I - am I right?” That was their motto, anyway. A damn good one, too. That string of words kept their spirits up on the inside, and now they implemented it while they drank up spirits.

Two pitchers of pinkish-clear liquid with fruit and ice floating in them were set on the wood before them, condensation running down the sides. They were offered glasses in which to pour their drinks into, but Plug elected to grab the handle and start taking gratuitous swigs instead.

After he was done chugging about a fourth of the surprisingly strong mixture - fruit juice mixed in with tequila and rum - Rick wiped the back of his mouth with a hand and leaned an elbow against the bar. He felt like he could chill here forever. This couldn’t get any better.

But he had something on his mind that he couldn’t quite contain, growing in the pit of his stomach.

“Y-you wanna know s-something, R-Rickley?” He half-turned on his stool, hand still resting on the handle of his pitcher. “I-I never thought I’d - that I’d meet a-aaa Rick I actually liked, y-y'know?”

There was a familiar buzzing percolating in the back of his brain, just enough to begin to feel almost comfortable. Those couple of weeks behind bars had done a number on his formerly sky high tolerance.

“B-but I mean, you’re a Rick, and - and y-you’re my - my best friend.” The glimmer of light behind Plugs’ eyes expressed that he meant it. He could feel a peculiar tightness in his chest that he dismissed as retaliation from the rush of alcohol in his system. “Y-you’re like, th-the only p-person I-I know I can trust, you - you feel me?”

Rickley poured the drink into his glass before gulping it down, cheeks flushed as he became intoxicated. His tolerance had gone way down but he was glad. He wanted to get drunk tonight.

Plug’s words struck a chord in Rickley’s heart and he filled his glass again to drink more, trying to hide his wet eyes from the man.

“Y-y-you’re my b-best friend t-too…” Rickley stuttered, moving off the stool to hug Plug closely, suddenly feeling like he needed to. He needed to be close to him…

“I n-never thought I’d t-trust a Rick a-again but then you… Y-you came along… You s-saved my life…”

Whatever he’d been expecting to come as a response to his carelessly thrown words of honesty, it wasn’t quite up to par with this.

That was why it took Plug off his guard when Rickley closed the minimal space between them, bony arms wrapping delicately around his back. The warmpth of his friends’ body pressed flush against his chest was all consuming, a comforting weight worthy of eliciting a moment of pause. Before he realized that he’d moved to instinctually reciprocate, Rick found one of his hands furling the fabric of Rickleys’ sweater between his fingers, the crook of his arm firmly pressed to his ribs in a half-hug.

“J-jeez, Rickley!” He playfully vocalized to cover up a tinge of ache that resided just behind the sternum, how his heart felt like it had skipped a beat. “Hah…”

Despite his expression that suggested a deal of surprise and a tinge of awkwardness to his half drunk smile, it… It did feel good to be together. They had the freedom of choice to be close like this, unseparated; Unlike when they’d been kept apart by cold concrete walls. By chains and tormentors, stripped of everything.

Plug couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t pushed away when somebody other than Rickley had touched him. This bond was strange, different - Being held in an embrace with him felt natural, after what they’d both been through.

You saved my life. On more than one occasion, Plug had stepped up to the plate to physically defend his cellmate, sure – but that fact could go both ways.

The pressure of his hand on Rickleys’ back tightened before the fingers straightened and brushed over his shoulder, turning from wholehearted affection to a casual signal of enough. “A-alright, Rickley, hey.” They were under the scrutiny of their barkeep and sparse guests, and - and his cheeks felt hot. It must be the booze.

But he kept his arm outstretched and his hand rested on Rickleys’ back, as if his palm didn’t want to leave him.

“I-I’ll let you in on - in on a-a little secret, R-Rickley.“ He fidgeted a thumb across the handle of his hefty drink, avoiding direct eye contact. “Haha, it’s - it’s pretty hah - i-it’s pretty fucking funny.” Even though he was pretending to play it cool behind the rim of the pitcher that he brought up to his lips again, Plug couldn’t push down a confession bubbling to the surface. “Y-you wanna know the- the truth, Rickley? Y-y-you’re the one who saved me.”

Ricks’ crooked smile didn’t quite shine in his eyes the same. “Ha ha! I w-was - I wasn’t gonna live in that shithole again! N-not til- ‘til I - until I met you.“ His toothy, yellowed grin didn’t falter under the heaviness implied, the macabre statement to follow:

“I w-was just gonna kill myself, dawg!” A burst of laughter followed, like the statement was truly an object of humor. “Can ya - can you believe it? Had the - the whoooole thing planned out.” Down to a T. “But then, y-y'know-” He eyes focused on Rickley in a half lidded gaze. “Y-you gave me a - a good reason to - to uuurp stay alive.” To throw himself under the bus for somebody else instead. “I-it was all you.” Only him.

“Y-y'know, I’m-” He found himself leaning closer, listing forward. “I-I’m real glad we got - we got to cover each other back there.” His glass thunked on the table, pitcher a little more than halfway drained. The effect was making itself evident in the way that words rolled off his tongue with ease. “I-I’m glad we’re… That we…” His eyes flicked down to glance at Rickleys’ lips, then back to his eyes. So goddamn blue that it took the confidence behind his speech away. “Th-that y-you and me…”

The man was incredibly happy when Plug hugged him back, no matter if it was slightly awkward and unplanned. Rickley was happy with it that way– his eyes sparkled at the closeness and Plug’s words. He just stayed happily in his arms, face flushed from the alcohol and closeness, his heart thumping in his chest. His emotion were running rampant, all over the place and wanting out. When Plug pulled away, they banged on his chest harder.

What he heard next made him falter a bit– but it was okay. Rickley didn’t dare cry– he didn’t want to disturb the closeness they were sharing right now. He looked into Plug’s eyes and sighed softly, moving to hold his hand. “I’m just happy you’re alive now. I just… don’t know what I’d do without you.. You say I saved your life but… I d-dunno..”

He blushed and looked down, a small smile lighting up his face. Plug’s words made his heart jump and his emotions thump at his chest once more. “That we're… What?”

He breathed out slowly and looked up, seeing Plug’s gaze on his mouth. He held in a soft gasp and stared into his eyes. Lips trembling, Rickley leaned in slightly, waiting for Plug to meet him if he wanted to.

It was as if time itself slowed down to a fraction of its’ normal speed while the environment surrounding the two of them gradually faded away from the minds’ eye. The bars’ mock oceanside ambiance seemed to go into a quiet lull as their faces drew a fraction closer, encroaching with tentative hitches in breath and nervous twitches.

Their hands glided into one another like they’d always belonged that way, palm clutching taut against palm. Fingers interlacing and overlapping into a knotted tangle of heat. It felt right.

“I-I just–” It was impossible to speak, words rendered useless in the immediate presence of Rickleys’ intense pools of light blue that rested squarely on his. The thudding of his uncontrollable heartbeat quickened against his ribcage, his stoic browline breaking to draw upward over heavily lidded eyes.

Rickleys’ lips were pink and slightly parted, shimmering as if the excess droplets of sangria upon them were a gloss coating. They were within enough of a short range to smell the alcohol wafting off each others’ shuddering breath. Taste it on the tongue.

Like a magnet drawing in its’ negative, a moth fluttering into the bright flame, Ricks’ eyelids drifted closed as he gradually eased forward on the edge of his barstool, tipping his head ever so slightly to the side;

And in one well executed motion, gently pressed their mouths together.

Whatever the hell Plug had been worried about before simply melted away, begone from his thoughts; Everything in his head was replaced with the peculiar sensation of Rickleys’ soft lips giving easily under his own. They were warm and pliant and tasted like fruit from their cocktail, absolving Rick of any willpower to resist the enticement of staying locked together amidst the low lights and glittering bottles.

With an audible smeck, his lips glided over a Rickleys’ with a methodic cadence of movement, exploratively dragging them together. One of Plugs’ bruised hands reached up to splay fingers in locks of blue, supporting his partners’ head as he pushed in a little harder.

Just as swiftly as the rogue wave of kisses had crashed together, they hesitantly pulled apart. Plug could’ve sworn that their bottom lips had stuck, initially resisting separation.

Now he was left out of breath, star struck and hyperfocused on his companion; line of sight unshaken as his lagging brain struggled to catch up and process the gravity of what they’d done.

“H-holy shit.” He reached up his free hand to brush fingertips across his own face, noting how his lips tingled in response. Hungering for more. “R-Rickley, I-I’m…”

He was at a loss, but the ghost of a smile starting to tug at his awed expression revealed how he really felt. “I’m, uh– Hah! Th-that was-”

With a start, Plug realized that the hand formerly running through Rickleys’ hair had slipped down and found itself comfortably resting atop a hip. He lightly chewed his own lower lip before casting his gaze back up at Rickley. “W-we should leave.”

Rickley’s heart pounded in his chest when Plug finally pressed his lips against his, and he let his eyes slip closed. Tasting the fruity sangria on Rick’s lips made him want to kiss him even more, and he pressed a hand to the back of his neck.

Rickley moved his lips against Plug’s gently, whimpering and shivering as his breath was taken away. Plug was kissing him back and it felt so good… His feelings for the man where being spurred on by this. This kiss didn’t hurt.

They usually did.

When Plug pulled away, his bright blue eyes shimmering as he stared up at him. Breathless, the man felt a smile spread on his lips and he let out a nervous laugh. His face was pink.

At the mention of leaving, Rickley looked around and saw some people looking at them. He bit his lip tightly and nodded a little, now too shy to look at him in his eyes.

The attention they’d unintentionally drawn in their direction wasn’t exactly expected. Maybe they’d been rash and careless in the moment, a little louder in the involvement of the kiss than they’d meant to be, but it was hard to tell when his heart was pounding so deafeningly in his ears. It was going to jump out of his chest any second, he could feel it. That had been - it was just…

Really something. Rickleys’ following smile was enough to make his cheeks flush and his collar feel like it was on too tight around his neck. He could still sense the ghost of a hand laid across the back of it, pulling him in.

Despite an unwarranted audience, Plug couldn’t help but return a nervous laugh while he struggled to tear his fixated gaze away. Until Rickley broke it, averting his baby blues coyly.

Yeah, it was best that they got going. Somewhere away from prying eyes that clearly made Rickley uncomfortable, bored through their backs. Somewhere they could figure out what the hell just happened and why it’d felt so good.

But not without finishing what they’d come here for first. Reaching over to grasp his frosty glass, Plug momentarily turned and chugged the entire remnant of his drink in record time, almost as if trying to douse the heat in his face. Wiping the back of a forearm over his mouth and flinching ever so slightly at the burning aftertaste, he recollected himself with a quiet ‘ugh’.

Standing up brought the rush of alcohol all to the head at once, dizzying in the best way. That sangria had to be for the better part tequila than sweet juice. “C-c'mon,“ he urged with a slur, "L-l-let’s skip th-the fuck outta here, R-Rickley.” Subliminally tightening his attentive hold on Rickleys’ thin hand, the two of them make their way for the door with their firm grip unbroken.

It’d started to rain while they were inside. Plug couldn’t help but belt out a laugh as they stumbled through the dark parking lot illuminated by the faint neon glow of the bar sign, back to their stolen ride, climbing in through the passenger door to slide into the cozy bench seat. Fat droplets spattered against the windshield.

"Whew, haha!” Plug leaned back against the cushions, eyes flitting around the cab. “Aha ha…” Their hands intertwined sat between their thighs, comfortable and real. They might be a little damp from the downpour outside, and still tired and roughed up, but they were together.

“Hey, R-Rickley–“ Rick squeezes his fingers as a thought pops into his intoxicated mind. A plan. "H-hey, l-listen, th-the bar just - I just got an idea.” Half-turning in place to face Rickley, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nervous energy; they were close again, naturally distanced at a minimum by their tethered arms. “L-let’s live at the beach, R-Rickley.”

Gazing deep into his companions’ eyes, he couldn’t help but be reminded of water. “I-I never w-wanna - wanna see concrete a-again.“ He searched for a flicker of agreement with a look that turned soft, casting a glance back down at Rickleys’ lips again. They’d been so… So nice.

"I-it’ll be just y-you and me. J-just runnin’ a-around and… a-aaand…” He started to lean in closer again, voice catching in his throat as he held his own breath in anticipation of another sweet taste of Rickley. "F-for a hundred…”

Rickley followed suit almost automatically, he need for alcohol winning over the need to leave. He gulped down the last of his drink and squeezed Plug’s hand when they came together, natural. The familiar grip of Rick’s long, bony fingers was comforting and gentle. It made him want to…

He shook his head, blushing. He bit his lip and let out a sigh when they made it into the truck, sliding down into the seat and closing his eyes, face flushed from the drinking.

Rickley looked over at the other man at the mention of his idea. The thought of spending the next however many years with Plug on the beachside was so much sweeter than any sangria he would ever have. He sat up and looked into his eyes, smiling a bit. "I really would love that,” he said softly, squeezing his hand. He hadn’t seen the beach since he was a little kid, maybe five or six. He barely remembered what it looked like.

He watched Rick, eyes drooping a bit as he saw him begin to lean in. He did as well, breath quickening in nervousness as his heart felt like it would burst. Rickley pressed his soft lips against Plug’s, closing his baby blues and slipping his arms around the back of his neck.

It felt so nice to be like this. It felt … Right. Natural. Even in his drunken haze he felt as if Plug was his other half– both with shattered hearts that filled in each other like puzzle pieces. It was the strangest feeling, and he didn’t know how to feel. So he just kept kissing him.

The grip tugging the lapels of his overcoat drew Rick in like an invitation; likewise neediness for something pulling him forward further into a kiss that was evolving from what had originally started as cautious into a drunken sloppiness that exposed every underlying desire.

A hand resting at his collar bunched the fabric in a tight grasp, starting to slip it off over a shoulder in a search for purchase. He couldn’t bring himself to tear away, at home in Rickleys’ arms; The feelings they shared were mutual, the both of them admitting to an attraction, a flicker lying beneath the skin –

Maybe it was the centimentality of everything they’d pulled through together catching up to them, the torture of confinement and overcrowded cells housing the enemy – This felt like a dam breaking, tension let loose. The flood of endorphins muddied Ricks’ thoughts too far to comprehend the whys; The only thing that mattered was the man he locked lips with.

They toppled over in a heap of squirming body heat, sternum against sternum, tongue slicking over tongue and teeth. Narrrow hips found their way between Rickleys’ legs as Plug unintentionally lurched forward, the front of his thighs pressed to the back of his partners’.

“Haaah, R-Rickley –” he moaned between kisses, pressing his brow to the other mans’, losing the air in his lungs when their eyes met. “R-Rickley~” He straddled his partners’ shoulders with a hand planted on either side of them, fingers curling into the cushion of the bench seat.

Lips wandered from their mark to gently nip at the corner of a jaw, and then down to settle on the side of Rickleys’ neck with a moan that reverberated in his partners’ ear, rumbled in his chest -

One that manifests itself into a bubbling laugh. The weight of Plugs’ body lapsed in every ounce of its’ seriousness, shoulders bouncing with every poorly stifled giggle. He just sort of let his forehead fall against Rickleys’ chest in a bout of evident hilarity, burying his face in his chest.

“Aha haaaa!” He gave an exhilarated laugh as he turned his head to the side, revealing a smile spread wide across his face. The side of his head sat against Rickleys’ chest as his shoulders rose and fell, heaving in an effort to retrieve stolen breath. He hadn’t felt like this in a long time. Whatever this was.

“W-we’re gonna -“ He had to run a hand over his own face to collect himself. “W-we’re gonna go far, Rickley.” He heard himself speak, but it didn’t carry his usual downtrodden dark notes; he sounded bright and daydreamy, positive.

"Jus- just think abouddit,” he slurred as he looked up into seafoam blues, his own darker orbs half lidded. “W-we could - we can have th-the ocean at our front door. Steps, a-aaand boom.” He could practically hear it now, in time with the rapid thump-thump of Rickleys’ hammering heartbeat. It was akin to having an ear pressed to the sand while the waves crashed against the shore. “Sm-smokin’ maaaad blunts aaaaall day long, n-no worries. N-nobody to tell us w-what to do, eeeever.“ He curled one of his hands into the side of his companions’ sweater, fingers almost able to count the ribs beneath. “N-nobody but Rick a-and R-Rickley.”

Shaking fingers found purchase on Rick’s now exposed shirt, his breath heavy as lidded eyes stared ahead in desire as their lips melted against each other. Rickley’s heart lurched forward when they fell further onto the seat, flushed face staring up at Plug’s with forgotten inhibitions. He pressed himself up after the initial startle of the quick action, trembling lips capturing the other’s again between heated breaths.

Any fear that Rickley had was peeled away by the alcohol and sex in his head. Wild hair fell down into his eyes but he ignored it, letting out small, nervous moans as Plug straddled him, the burning heat between his legs becoming worse– or better? He didn’t know right now. He just wanted to keep kissing Plug… forever.

His hazy mind forced him to pull in a breath when they parted again, exposing his neck further for Rick to land his gentle yet hungered kisses. The low rumble was met by a soft moan of a sigh, body relaxing as he felt the body above him shake with upcoming laughter. Rickley looked up with sweet pale eyes, shell pink lips parted slightly and shining with wetness. He swiped his tongue across his bottom lip subconsciously before smiling back up at Plug.

Soul soaring and heart thumping so loud he knew Rick could hear it, Rickley began to laugh as well, soft and quiet. His arms were still wrapped around the man, gripping tightly as if he were afraid he would leave. He hadn’t felt this good in so long– and he had a feeling that it wasn’t just because of the drinks.

Calming more as Plug spoke, he closed his eyes and listened, imagining everything with excited vigor. His eyes shimmered with joyful tears behind closed lids, hiding the pure emotion from his partner. He took in a quick breath, body trembling as he spoke. "Please… I-I want th-that. J-just.. us… R-Rick and Rickley. Rick a-and Rickley.”

I love you.

Anchored by the weight of curled fingers hooked into the folds of his clothes and sweet aftertaste embedded on the tastebuds of his tongue, Rick felt as though he could stay comfortably entwined forever. The bumps and curves of their bodies were a haven, empty spaces betwixt torsos filled by one anothers’ presence; broken only by the feeling of Rickley shaking beneath him, quaking with restrained breath shuddering out in raspy words –

Please. I-I want that. Just us. “Jussst us,” Plug clumsily reiterated, picking up his head and resting weight upon his elbows so that he could look up at Rickley. Yeah, they’d live at the beach, spend long days in the sun and salt– but there was another note to his voice that suggested more than that. Plugs’ gaze wandered away to dreamily focus on exposed neck. "J-just Rick a-and Rickley, stickin’ together a-and…”

And being close like this. For a little longer, a little more tightly bound.

His fingers at Rickleys’ side tugged at the fabric, in turn pulling the neck of his sweater down to expose a swath of pale skin. Bringing his lips to his partners’ jugular, Rick traveled them along the curvature of a collar bone with messy smecks, quiet “ahh"s;

simultaniously running a splayed hand tentatively from the center of Rickleys’ stomach and up with care, pushing aside clothing to show skin stretched taut over ribs beneath.

The call of flesh below burned with heat that rose in waves off goose pimpled skin, mottled with dark bruises dyed a dozen different painted colors - splashes of purples and greens set against porcelain that overlayed prexisting scars.

Licking his parted lips, Rick curled a palm against Rickleys’ sternum. "I-I just wanna- y-you make me feel so–” His voice faltered, brow arching higher as eyelids fell heavier, heart fluttered faster.

Edging his body down Rickleys’, hips removed themselves from hips and replaced their void with his midsection that grazed over the thinner mans’ body. He moved with the flow, attuned to an unspoken communication, a vibe on the same wavelength that they’d always seemed to possess.

Arms wrapping around to support beneath the back of Rickleys’ ribs, he landed a flurry of kisses across his partners’ abdomen. One below the navel, then randomly along the innermost of his bony ribs, gentler where damage made itself evident in the dim light.

Rick ran a loose bottom lip over Rickleys’ solar plexus as he raised his head, attempting to read his partners’ expression with glazed, intoxicated eyes. “Y-you’re so ssssoft.”

Powder blue eyes gazed up at Rick as his hands moved upon Rickley, soothing the smaller man’s quakes. Jittery from the heated kisses, Rickley’s eyes had filled with overwhelmed tears, dribbling down pink dusted cheeks. He inhaled deeply before letting out any anxieties as Plug softly pulled down the sweater’s neck and let out delicate noises as lips brushed along his sensitive skin.

Trembling again, Rickley’s eyes were fixated on Plug. Rosy lips were wet and eager to be kissed again, but the man was surprised when Rick pushed up his shirt. The warm hand pressing against him like a feather quietly assuaged the trickle of fear that wormed itself into Rickley’s brain. Kisses followed and he gasped, frame nearly collapsing from the smothering affection. Such positive touch was finally getting to him– the drunk was fading a bit and he could control himself now. But he didn’t want to stop– even if the tears tumbled down his cheeks in thick globs, unable to let out any words or indication of how he felt.

A soft cry slipped out as Plug paid special attention to his weakened bones, caressing them with such care that he felt his heart would burst. Rickley still tangled cold fingers into Rick’s hair, the gentle kisses filling him up with such a strong sense of adoration he couldn’t handle.

When Plug finally looked up at him, he peered back with watery eyes filled with unwavering love. The whispered words increased the glowing dust across wet cheeks, the faintest edge of a smile appearing.

The sensation of thin fingers running along Ricks’ scalp served as an encouragement, prompting his arms to wrap tighter under his partners’ midsection. He wanted to hold Rickley firm, even while his brain buzzed and his overworked joints ached;

Until he realized that breathy pants and soft cries were accompanied by fat, shimmering tears. “Oh, sh-shit.” The relaxed expression that had once been settled on Plugs’ face warped into budding concern.

“Sh-shit, Rickley.” This wasn’t right, was it? That reaction couldn’t be right. “Thisssis - haha, th-this is too far, huh?” He pressed his brow to the plane of Rickleys’ belly in an affectionate gesture, shoulders slumping. Maybe he’d gotten carried away by the thrill of the moment, stepped a little ahead of himself.

Breaking away, he slid up the bench seat next to Rickley, throwing an arm over one of his shoulders so that they could both fit, legs entangled and faces juxtapositioned. "Jeez, I-I’m sorry, R-Rickley, I’m -” he clumsily ran the back of a hand across his counterparts face, wiping away a splotch of wet from blush tinted cheeks. “I-I didn’t mean to uuurpset you, y-y'know?”

The exhaustion that made itself apparent in every move of his weathered body crept up into his limbs, clouding halfway open eyes. “Y-you’re just so different. Y-you make me feel saf–… alright. Real alright.” He awkwardly avoided the implied weakness embedded in the term safe. “I-it’s just, I-I haven’t cared about a- anyone since, uh - A-aaand you’re n-nothing like–”

He stopped himself short, swallowing unspoken words with a flash of his eyes up and down Rickleys’ face. Measuring the present angles, memorizing crisscrossing scars. "Y-you’re suh-special, R-Rickley.”

Rickley’s soft cries quieted at Plug’s concern, but then his face morphed into a look of guilt. He realized it wasn’t a normal reaction of enjoyment– and he /did/ enjoy this– but he couldn’t help the trembles that shook his thin body. It was just so overwhelming, Plug’s lips constantly pressing against his scarred skin, soft and harmless.

The man couldn’t find his voice through his sheepish blush, pressing himself against Plug as their bodies were moved upright once again.

God, Rick didn’t have to be sorry. He’d done everything right… It was Rickley who was overemotional and broken. The gentle hand against his face soothed his tears and he let out a long breath, trying to muster up the courage to speak.  
He wasn’t special–

"R-Rick, i-its okay, I just, n-no, I l-like it, f-felt.. G-g-good…” he stammered, “W-wanted more.. I w-was overwhelmed… I j-just.. I d-don’t remember the l-last time someone w-was so gentle–”

Rickley’s faced burned red from the confession and he looked away. “Y-you’re way m-more special, though…”

Hushed truths reverberating in their shared space brought a matching blush to Ricks’ face, a presence of heat that he attempts to conceal by running a hand through his own Rickley-mussed hair, partially obscuring his face with a folded arm. He couldn’t stop himself from letting a lopsided grin grow upon his features, despite a nervous flutter housed in his chest.

He’d wanted more. "Aha, I-I mean, I-I’m- it’s…”

Jeez, the both of them were flustered as hell, nerves as jumbled as their stuttered words and low voices laiden with emotion. What kind of Ricks were they?

The weight of Rickleys’ skinny frame pressed close to his made Ricks’ torso ache with a longing that he couldn’t quite place. Like he could melt into him. Like he could let himself trust.

But fuck; those implications behind Rickleys’ confession brought a distinct twinge of anger stabbing into his heart, twisting like a knife - Rickley had been through so much shit back there in prison. It made him sick to his core to give consideration to all that unchecked time he’d spent with, with–

Goddamn. He couldn’t blame him for holding transgressions, finding discomfort - but Rickley being so entirely unfamiliar with a gentle touch at all was-

It spoke volumes.

“Sh-shit, Rickley, you - y-you deserved better.” As if weighted by sympathy, Ricks’ head dipped down to the crook of Rickleys’ neck, forehead resting against shoulder. “I-I won’t let aaanybody hurt you. I just w-wanna keep you safe.” He furled fingers into the hem of his partners’ sweater, clinging tight. “I… w-want to make you feel good.” Not like the cruelty he’d known. Not like anybody else.

Plug drew in a breath, lip brushing against warm skin as he talked. “Do you… y-you w-want me to…?” His voice trailed off on a questioning note as a hand wandered up the back of Rickleys’ loose top, dragging rogue fingers over the rough edges of the scars that defined his back in his trademark X, along the back of his protruding ribcage. “Do y-you trust me?”

Quiet words made Rickley’s heart clench with pain as he remembered– but Plug meant to be better and he /was/ better. Plug had treated him better than anyone– ever. He suddenly craved the soft touches again, watery eyes closing as he felt the man press his head to his shoulder.

Rickley shivered at the feeling of Rick’s lips against his skin. He nodded slowly, breath catching as he looked down at him, eyes wide and blue. "I w-want t-t-to… You make m-me feel … G-good…”

“I t-trust you, R-Rick..”  
And he did. Rickley had never trusted anyone more– and he needed the touch like an addict to his fix. Without it he felt like he might die, now that he’d had a taste, he had to feel it again.

“Please, Rick… I-I know.. I-I c-cry a lot b-b-but that’s not… Not b-because I don’t like it. Please trust me. I w-want to feel it again.”

The body he laid hands on trembled with anticipation, warm under fingertips and palms running gingerly over bony lower back. Every word that left Rickleys’ mouth rumbled softly within his throat next to his ear, stuck to the insides of Ricks’ swimming mind with a viscous permanence.

Raising his head, he found his eyes autonomously drifting to stare into his partners’ blues, entranced by the wet glisten behind clumped eyelashes. Please trust me. I want to feel it again.

Every warbling admittance made his pounding heartbeat speed up a little more, made him squirm in place and shudder. Rickley wasn’t the only one with a certain hunger embedded just below the surface of skin, a deep desire for more time spent close, relishing direct contact of marred flesh.

“Of course I-I trust you, R-Rickley.” More than he’d trusted in anybody. If he wanted more, if he ached to be traced by sloppy kisses and traversing hands again… Well, he’d get it.

The empty air standing between them was filled with moist breath as Rick leaned forward, his high arched brow nearly making contact with his partners’ in a moment of intimacy. “I’ll… I’ll take care of you, babe.”

Their lips met one another again in a feverish kiss, crashing together like a storm upon the rocks, salty and sweet;

Moving with a quickened desperation, as of trying to make up for the cost of mistakes, for lost time. Mouths relinquished and once again parted open delicately, heads tilting to reciprocate as hot tongues delved over each other, running swiftly between slick lips;

While the hands once settled on Rickleys’ curves ever so carefully slid their way up past gnarled scars and up to his shoulder blades, bringing clothing to rest in bunches about Plugs’ wrists. This baggy sweater falling over his partners’ torso kept getting in the way, concealing the pale angles that lie beneath.

Hesitantly separating from their heated kiss, Rick licked his reddened lips as he struggled to catch his breath. It was like Rickley stole the air right out of his lungs, every time.

“Mmn, R-Rickley~” He tugged at the fabric suggestively, signaling that he wanted to remove it entirely. “L-let me…” His gaze flicked up and down, searching for permission in body language with a lusty slack in his jaw. “L-let me take th-this off.”

His lips quivered at Rick’s voice admitting his trust, lustful blue eyes staring up as he tried to regulate his breathing. When their lips finally met again, Rickley let out a soft noise, eyes slipping closed as he wrapped his arms around the gentle slope of Plug’s neck.

Tongue moving over tongue, Rickley’s heart beat louder than before as swollen pink lips tried to keep up with the other. Before, with the.. Others, Rickley wouldn’t have moved his lips so eagerly, he would have gripped the one above his with such conviction and love.

He shivered at the delicate fingers that trailed over his scars, fear rising in his stomach, but it was ignored. This feeling was so different and it felt so nice– Rickley didn’t want it to stop.

His shoulders tensed when the fingers touched the knotted tissue of the ‘X’, and he stopped the pained noise before it left his throat. It didn’t hurt really– just the memory did.

When they pulled away, Rickley looked up at Plug with dizzy eyes and ruffled blue hair, chapped lips pulling in air quickly as he just watched him. Gentle tears streamed down his cheek but he gave him a small smile.

Rickley responded to Plug request a moment later, gently helping the bigger man pull his sweater off and toss it to the side. The criss cross scars that littered his body gave Rickley the feeling of being ugly, and he pulled his hands down to cover his horribly marred skin. He knew Plug had seen it before– but not like this. Not when he /had/ to be beautiful…

What he couldn’t cover, though, were the thousands of streaking scars lining the tender skin on his bony arms. He hated those the most– embedded in his mind as personal failures and weakness. Ugly, ugly, ugly…

Eyes averted as a shameful blush sprung onto tear stained cheeks. He wished he were prettier.

The two of them moved in tandem, picking up on each others’ subtle cues aligning with the way their muscles tensed and relaxed and retensed. Breathy noises escaped Rickley with every explorative touch, often releasing sounds that edged on distressed; but the way he tethered him with arms thrown about the ridge of his shoulders communicated that he should go on.

The sweater slipped off easily - it was oversized on Rickley, anyway. All baggy and draped over a coat hanger frame.

The cast aside material caught a sleeve on the knob of the dashboard radio, tuning into some top fourty station on low volume. The faint bass filled the void left by silence and heaving breaths.

🎶it’s going alright, soak it in🎶

Beneath the fabric lie a landscape of porcelain mottled by discoloration and layered scar tissue, thick enough to bury blueish veins deep. Plug couldn’t resist the temptation to sit back and drink in the sight; They were uncannily similar in the way their bodies were built, all stringy muscle held together by sinew. Rick wondered if they had the same placement of nerve endings, if they shared places of sensitivity.

Blinking in surprise, Ricks’ brow furrowed as Rickley moved his arms over his bare abdomen, seafoam eyes averted and face shimmering with tears. Was he… ashamed? It wasn’t like he hadn’t already caught sight of Rickley head to toe bare in the showers, just not… Like this, where he could really see him.

Self conciousness rolled off of his counterpart in waves, exposed further by every attempt to hide behind a barrier of limbs too thin to accomplish the obsctruction of view.

“H-hey…“ Plug slipped his hands into Rickleys’ with care, moving them from their place as his partner tried to conceal his scars.

“I-it’s alright, Rickley,” he reassured with a peck swiftly planted on the curvature of his jawline. “L-look–” Plug reached to grab his own shirt and slowly pulled it over his head, leaving his torso likewise exposed; putting his own myriad of thick lines drawn across his skin on display, horizontal and pink. Marks littered him from collarbone to hip, ranging in severity –

Two thick slashes under his pectorals, a strange arrangement of dots in a wide half oval on one shoulder that almost resembled a shark bite, and an ugly knot struck across his bellybutton that glared in its’ obviousness. All laid against a background of little scars, an aged history of intentional cuts. “W-we’re not so- so different, see?”

The playing field was evened out, both of them shirtless and close enough for the other to pick out every little detail, even in the dim lighting cast over the scene. “Y-you’re just still so…” Plug reached forward, dragging the ends of his fingertips down Rickleys’ sternum with care. “So goddamn good looking.”

Shimmering eyes overflowing with shameful tears stared up at their counterpart, and Rickley held onto him desperately, as if he were afraid he’d leave. But then his twig like arms were moved away, and Plug began to take his own shirt off.

The soft music rang in his ears and he let watercolor eyes run over Plug’s bare torso. He let out a trembling breath of arousal, moving his eyes up to Rick’s face. Fuck he was really, really handsome…

Rickley nervously intertwined their hands, their matching rope scars connecting seamlessly through their unbreakable bond. Rickley let out a small laugh, closing his eyes and shaking his head. He was being silly. He trusted Plug.

The soft warmth of Plug’s fingertips made him shiver, squirming slightly underneath the man. “R-Rick–” he said, face going pink at the compliments.

A soft whine escaped his swollen lips and he leaned in for another heated kiss, reassured about his gnarled chest.

The split second that it took for Rickley to reinitiate the contact of their lips was all it took to ignite a fiery passion in Rick, who returned it with double the energy, the heartfelt desire;

Listing into the kiss as if bowing beneath the great weight of love, of caressing embraces and swapped saliva tinted with flavors of strawberry and sugar. God, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this, when somebody had looked at him like that–

It was too much. Rickley wasn’t like anything, anybody else, he just – pulled him in like the tides.

They laid back in a knot of gangly limbs against the length of the bench seat, given only the barest room to extend legs halfway or stretch arms; not that it mattered, since they were so intent on sharing the same space until they meshed entirely. Buzzing flesh and reddened cheeks and hot skin of their chests pressed together, heart to thudding heart.

Fingers curled into the spaces between Rickleys’, tightly wrapped around knuckles - their wrists bearing identical marks, gouged deep. His free hand traced along the entrancing curvature of lowermost ribs, spidering up to draw tentative touches along the spaces between bone, triapsing to gingerly slip a thumb along waistband,

Stroking down the naked side of Rickleys’ body with a building feverance. “Mmmn~”

Setting an elbow against the seat cushion to support his balance atop his partner, Plug let out an airy “haaah” as his face lifted away, cocking his head to press lips to jugular. And then down below the collar bone, along the center of his scarred chest and further–

Torso undulating along Rickleys’ down, down, until he was connecting kisses below the navel, where a trail of fine blue hairs began. His eyes flicked up to watch the other mans’ features change, wearing the tinge of a grin beneath heavy lids and a flicker of mischief as he tugged at the elastic securing fabric to hip, opening his mouth-

Selaciously running a wet tongue over a jutting hip with intentional pause, lingering where the skin dipped between abdominal and bone. “I’m gonna- gonna show you w-what I got~”

Lips melting against one another left Rickley’s body trembling, and he let out a soft, nearly inaudible whine in response. He pressed himself up against Plug, desperate for his touch and starved of the affection he needed so badly.

Limbs winding together, Rickley made sure he pressed his fingers down Plug’s back, gently and sensually stroking his sides. He wanted to make him feel good too.

When he felt the fingers skim over his waistband, he shivered, mouth pulling away to let out an almost fearful sounding moan. But Rickley’s striking blue eyes locked onto Plug’s to tell him to continue.

The kisses down his body made him tremble even more, legs shaking and breath heaving as he tried to keep his composure. It was going to be okay…

Lidded eyes stared back at Plug when his attention was caught once again, and he nodded slightly and let out a nervous breath. A whimpering moan followed, body shying away slightly from Plug’s exploitative tongue.

“O-okay.. I w-want to see… Sh-show me…” he said quietly, face bright red and blushing.  
Maybe it was the alcohol lowering the inhibitions that stood between dizzying thought and /action/, too strong sangria boozily making the half baked visions of Rickley in his head swim with picturesque idealisms,

But something excited stirring inside of Ricks’ core, like prickling electricity running up and down his midline, desperately wanted to bear witness to his counterparts’ head lolling back in ecstasy, mouth part open into an O beneath a high set brow; Back arch up off the bench seat /against his/–

He wanted to be the cause of it. He wanted to wreak that reaction, evoke it out of Rickley beneath skillful tongue. He wanted to show him the attention he deserved. “D-don’t worry, babe. I’m gonna - I’m gonna take /gooo~ood/ care of you.”

The button on Rickleys’ jeans unlatched as Rick dragged lips over skin, locking eyes with his counterpart as fingers deftly undid zipper with a quiet /ssshwip/.

And there he was, with his face only inches away from Rickleys’ most /intimate/ parts. He couldn’t help but hesitate, flicking orbs to glance at Rickleys features before returning back to what lie below with a twinge of nervousness. Whew, he hadn’t - he hadn’t done /this/ in a while.

It was impossible not to notice the strain against the cloth of undergarments. With those sublime moans and soft cries that the other man had been letting out, he should’ve expected this /excitement/.

“Ahah…” Rick licked his lips in anticipation, slowly and caculatively, with a lingering thirst.

“Y-you /do/ l-like me.“ He brushed a tentative hand over the material of briefs, lingering on the draw /up/; Sensually gliding attentive fingers over the length beneath.

Was it hot in here? He could swear that he was already sweating. Or maybe that was the burning of arousal gathering uncomfortably in the /lowest/ pit of his guts.

“Ahah, oh, I’m -” he pulled at the elastic, working it down as he tried to cover up what was definitely a strong tug of anxiety. “I’m gonna sh-/show you/, alright.” He was stalling. “I’m gonna, I-I’m gon…”

He was talking too much. Using his mouth for the wrong purposes. Drawing in a breath, Rick steeled his reserve as he moved to carefully cradle Rickleys’ dick in his palm, gently half-curling fingers around it. “Oh, f-/fuck it./”

Letting his eyes flutter close and brow furrow over them, Rick drew the flat surface of his tongue aaaall the way up the shaft - And encircle the wet cavern of his mouth around Rickleys’ member in one smooth motion.

The anticipation pounding in Rickley’s chest made him giddy, body twitching as Plug continued his efforts slowly, slowly… He was rambling and Rickley didn’t mind. His hazy thoughts couldn’t think of anything better than just listening to Plug talk– being close to him…

He felt air hit his pink member, and it bobbed slightly, straining unconsciously at Plug’s careful touch. A weird feeling wiggled its way into Rickley’s head, but he tried to ignore it. His rosy red face stared down at his partner, eyes sparkling.

And then he closed his eyes at the sudden wetness around his cock, his body trembling and jerking slightly. His heart jumped into his throat and the overwhelming pleasure was followed by an underlying burning pain… And fear.

Tearful eyes shot open and he did not see Plug.

He saw Prime, gripping his bruised hips with too strong hands and biting down hard–  
He saw Gamma, holding him down and not letting go, his disgusting mouth slipping over his body–  
He saw countless Ricks, slashing his face, laughing, laughing, laughing…

…

Rickley curled up suddenly and flung himself back to the other side of the seat, covering himself up quickly and pressing his face in his hands.

“Please… Please… PLEASE DONT HURT ME!!! I-I’m sorry!!! I-I’m so sorry! Not again, I d-don’t want it, please, make them stop… P-Prime, please, m-make them stop…”

His pleas made no sense, and he babbled on in blinding fear, eyes far away.

“I didn’t like i-it… Please believe me… I d-didn’t.. Didn’t…. Want that… They did it… Hurts…. Help me… I’m n-not a whore… N-not.. Not a whore…”

Everything had been going fine. One minute, Rick found himself completely devoted to following through with the intimate task at hand, bobbing his head; Savoring the feeling of Rickley writhing and shaking with barely contained euphoria beneath him–

And the very next, Rickley pulled away from him with an unexpected violence to his movements, as if desperate to escape. He scrambled to throw himself back against the passenger door with a thunk, hard enough to make the window rattle.

The sheer intensity that his counterpart startled with was enough to inspire Plug to follow suit, limbs flailing as he shoved himself into the opposing corner. Arms found purchase on seat back and dashboard where they could, Rick wide eyed and about to express his shock though questioning when –

Oh god, the screaming.

Drawing knees up to his chest, Plug almost mimicked that way that his counterpart shied away, curling in upon himself. Oh god. Oh fuck. He was - Rickley was crying out at the top of his lungs for mercy, begging for it to stop–

What happened? What did he do? It’d only just been okay, Rickley said to do it.

But this wasn’t right. Not even close. Staring across the cab with mouth uselessly hanging agape at a loss for words, Rick could pick out the peculiar distance residing within reflective eyes, glossed over and hauntingly empty.

Did he… call him Prime again? Just like back in their cell, right before Rickley raked nails over his face in pseudo self defense.

The thickly laiden confusion blanketing Ricks’ demeanor softened into a brand of hurt that squeezed the air out of his lungs. Some kind of overwhelming empathy cracking his ribs apart. Overridden with crushing guilt.

Rickley wasn’t even here. Cast into a disassociative state.

Prime. Make them stop. It hurts. Help me. Not a whore.

Each hysterical word leaving the retreated figure across from him bit deep, sinking into the psyche with nauseating implications. He could still recall the way all of those Ricks in the prison showers had been ready to jump on Rickley and tear him apart, how Gamma reeled him in by the hip like some kind of sick plaything–

He didn’t even know the half of it, did he?

And the shit that he did know about? Was his fucking fault. He could’ve protected Rickley so much more. It was his own lack of balls that kept him from killing Gamma on the spot, sparing him those days upon days of, of…

And look what he was doing. Putting Rickley through too much, too soon, crossing the goddamn line.

The realization made Ricks’ stomach wrench itself into knots, his face pale. He could swear that he was dangerously close to throwing up from visceral disgust alone, gripping onto his insides with an iron hold. He dragged a hand across his mouth to stifle the bile rising in his throat, this queasiness that coincided with… With his own fucking stupidity.

What the fuck had he been thinking?

“R-RRRR–” The voice shuddering out of his mouth was weak. He forced it to bend under his will, steady out. “R-Rickley! S-stop!”

It rolled off the lips like a plead. He could faintly recognize the sensation of his own fingers digging in against scalp, bunching hair in a fist.

“I-i-it’s okay, y-you’re okay, R-Rickley.” No he wasn’t. “Listen, it’s - it’s me, Rick. Plug Rick. I-I-I’m not- n-not gonna h-h-hurt you.” But he already had.

This was so fucked up. “P-please stop, I’m s-s-sorry.” He reached out a tentative hand towards Rickley, outstretched in an attempt to bring him some kind of comfort. It was the only thing his half-drunk mind could think of. “Oh god, I-I didn’t mean- I didn’t mean to - oh f-fuck.”

Rickley continued to tremble violently, body coated in a sheen of sweat that dripped down his bare body. Somehow he managed to pull his slacks back over himself a moment later and clutch onto his sweater. The man’s blank blue eyes ran over Plug’s face but did not see him.

The memories came flooding back to him in a flurry of fear, whirling him up and tossing him around like a ragdoll before thrusting him down into the dirt. Breaking him. Flashing images and phantom pains in his abdomen made him flinch, and he started to scratch at his face slightly, irritating old scars.

When he heard his name his head turned slightly, but his eyes continued to be blind. He could hear someone trying to reassure him, and the name that the person spoke seemed familiar, somewhere in the back of his mind. He just blinked in response, tears dripping down his red cheeks.

Large blue eyes flicked down when he noticed the hand coming towards him, and he let out a panicked whimper and pressed himself against the door again. He shook his head frantically. “N-NO! D-don't… no touch.. nnnnnnoooooooo… noooo toucchhhh….” he slurred, hiccuping and breathing in short, scared breaths.

Nothing was okay. It would never be okay.

Rickley just cried and cried. He was pained and afraid and he couldn’t remember where he was or who Plug was, he just wanted to DIE. He wanted to get away…

What the fuck had he done?

The clarification of identity either didn’t register with Rickley, or it didn’t matter. Those wide blue eyes full of panic unblinkingly bored holes through his skull, seeming to see past him into another plane of existence, somewhere farther away than here.

Or was that just the paralyzing terror taking ahold with newfound strength, shining back in tear-distorted irises? In the furled limbs trying to protect vital areas, tendons tensing beneath scar-studded skin as he fought to cover every visible inch of himself.

The hand reaching out towards his counterpart retracted as if it’d been bitten, limply hanging at the wrist. He… Rickley practically ran from the gentlest initiation of physical contact, recoiling with the panic of somebody who was anticipating harm to come from it. He didn’t… didn’t trust him.

The pathetic sound that accompanied the flinch practically seethed with dread and fearfulness. “Okay, okay!” Without hesitation, Rick threw up both of his hands in defeat, visibly held away from Rickley. The pain leeching into his chest only stabbed sharper when he saw those fat tears rolling down marred cheeks, when breath caught on every half-sob and choked out syllable. “N-no touch,” he reiterated. “I-I w-won’t touch.” He’d done enough damage by touching already.

Fuck, he was making everything worse. Pushing Rickley farther into his shell with every poor excuse for assurances; Doing everything wrong. Stupid, stupid.

Shit. “I-I’m… I’m sorry.” The only thing Rick could bring himself to do was turn away so that maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t look like such an apparent threat. Features bunching in askew pain, he forced himself to focus on the distant headlights of the intergalsctic highway out the front windshield. “I’m so f-fucking sorry.”

Shit, shit, shit. He laid both hands on the faux leather steering wheel, squeezing it hard enough for his knuckles to go white and ache. “W-we’re gonna- we just gotta get outta here, huh?” Yeah, that would do the trick. “A-aaa change of scenery will - will help, right, R-Rickley?”

Nothing would help. Rick just didn’t know what the fuck to do, and sitting here, wallowing in the misery wafting off of his passenger that he’d caused –

He couldn’t take it. And it was starting to show in the way his frown wobbled, in the wet shine of the dark-encircled eyes that caught him in the rear view mirror. He tugged at his locks in frustration, obscuring his sickeningly weak expression. Damn it.

The truck rumbled to life when he twisted the key in the ignition, pulling out of the parking lot in a wide arc. Stare at the road lines. Think of your hands digging thumbnails into the loose seams of the wheel, and your feet resting on the pedals.

Don’t look over. Don’t think about how fucking stupid you are.

“Sh-shit, Rickley, I’m - I didn’t mean it.” Plug didn’t know who he was trying to convince. The wheels hummed over the onramp, picking up speed. Passing over center lines, guided by shaking palms, clammy and tightly curled. Eyeing Rickleys’ uncomfortable profile from peripheral view, biting lower lip too hard and suppressing the stabbing regret that made itself at home in his center. Wriggling its’ way ever deeper into soft flesh.

It was strange, how his voice felt like it wasn’t his own. Stumbling over excuses and apologies doubletime. “I-I didn’t mean a-a-any of it.” He was lying. It’d all been intentional, every move and kiss and – it just - it wasn’t supposed to end up like this. With Rickley so upset and afraid of him. “Th-this is my fault. I-I didn’t- I didn’t mean it, Rickley, I-I’m s-sorry.”

The man who had hours earlier showed such happiness and confidence had been shattered in a matter of moments– and now he felt as if there was no way out. He felt trapped in the small cabin of the truck, even if Rick had pulled his hand away into his own space.

Petrified, Rickley just continued to stare at him before he spoke again. The simple words were easier to understand now– Plug wasn’t going to touch him and they were going to start driving. It did calm the man’s nerves slightly, though his childlike fear was still glazed across his pale face.

When they finally began to drive, Rickley turned his sullen face to look out the window at the occasional passing cars. It was late– there wasn’t anyone really on this big highway, and the methodic thrumming of each highway panel underneath them sucked Rickley into a calming trance.

It did not stop the thoughts.

The words that began to tumble from his partners mouth made the thoughts even sharper now that it broke him from the lost stare that he held out the window.

Rickley didn’t like how distressed Plug sounded– he caused Plug to be so upset and that’s all he could think, except for one thing.  
He didn’t want this to happen again, and Plug hadn’t locked the doors and his fingers ran across the handle.

Rickley hunched over, shoulders bunching. He wanted to die. He needed out. He was so afraid.  
He pulled on the handle and the door flew ooen, wind beginning to suck him from the shotgun seat.

A scream ripped through his throat as he held onto the dash, fingers slipping… But on purpose. He was about to fly out of the door to crash on the ground on a gruesome death.

He sobbed as the wind whipped him around.

The cadence of highway moan lulled Rick into each note kept within crack and crevice, axels of the truck catching with the slightest resistance that reverberating in the wheel underhand. Ka-thump, ka-thump, like the heartbeat hammering against his ribcage.

Fuck, why had he done that? Why wouldn’t Rickley just say someth–

Thoughts were stolen away as violently as sudden winds swept blue hair into his eyes, whipping unruly strands over his forehead. The rumbling distortion of sound like a roaring undercurrent, the vortex tunnel created by an open door sucking loose articles of trash out and away was –

The door was open. At eighty miles an hour, Rickley had opened the door.

It was as if the dimensional environment around them slowed, whittled down to a fraction of consumed time. Wide-eyed vision halfway obscured by windstream induced tears caught sight of how Rickleys’ fingers began to lose their hold, saw his mouth open but –

Could barely make out the notes of internal agony being deafened by screaming wind.

He was going to get blown right out of the seat, frail and thin and willing; Eyes squeezed shut in wholehearted acceptance to the void outside.

Oh god no. Not after they had only just got out, when their chance for a future had been handed to them - not after everything they’d been through-!

“R-RICKLEY!” His own voice was lost to the abyssal darkness, drawn out of his own lungs and thrust outside where the lines marking lanes lie still,

As motionless as Rickleys’ mangled body would be if he slipped away, if he didn’t–

“NO!” In one thoughtless motion, acting upon instinct alone, Plug lunged out of the drivers seat and across the bench - wrapping a hand around Rickleys’ forearm hard enough to leave bruises. Desperately hanging on with a vice grip, pulling him inward as the vehicle drifted over the median into oncoming traffic.

There wasn’t time to spare to bring them to a stop, feet preoccupied and unable to reach pedals. Rick reached for the park break, throwing the wheels into a deadlock as he clung to his counterpart with a surge of adrenaline fueled strength. He wouldn’t let him go. He couldn’t let him go!

SKKRRRRRRRRRR–

The truck lurched with enough velocity to toss them both like ragdolls against the dash. The rubber of the tires squealed and smoked as they fought for traction on asphalt, skidding sideways as the vehicle listed dangerously to one side. The door slammed shut as the unattended steering column quaked and rattled, the whole chasis balancing on two wheels,

Before coming crashing down, at a complete halt diagonally in the middle of the nearly deserted intergalactic highway.

Plug didn’t know what happened in those last few moments. It didn’t register that his curled fingers were digging too deep into skin, cutting off circulation; He couldn’t feel the nosebleed welling like a spring from being bounced off of the cracked windshield –

He didn’t know when he’d gotten on top of Rickley, pinning him down to the seat. Sitting on top of his hips, restraining arms above his head and pushing the other mans’ wrists into the cushions. Staring at each other with shock-frozen blues.

“W-w-w-WHAT were you TH-THINKING?!” The voice that bubbled up out of him was half hysterical, unstable and laced with emotion. “Y-y-you–”

Gritted teeth bore the weight of frustration as they clenched, feeling his own teeth threaten to give and jaw strain. Droplets of blood running from his nose splattered onto Rickleys’ face, vision obscured by bizarre moisture clouding his eyes.

“I-I can’t hhh– I CAN’T LOSE YOU, TOO!” He was shaking hard, afraid to let up. Terrified to release his hold on the only person he had. “Y-you can’t f-f-fucking die, R-Rickley! Don’t - don’t fucking l-leave me alone-!”

Shoulders fell, hands lost their ironlike hold. Exhaustion seeping into every stressed fiber of his being. “D-d-don’t m-make me, R-Rickley, d-don’t –”

The words choked off in his throat, forming a lump uncomfortably residing in his chest. His face was contorted into something that stood between anger and heartbreak, overwhelming. “I c-c-can’t do it a-a-again–!”

Rickley had nearly let go before he felt something slam against him and hold him down. He let out a strangled cry as his frail wrists were held hostage, almost enough to snap the brittle bone beneath. The rapid, frantic stop that jolted the truck slammed the flapping passenger door onto a thin leg with a sick crunch before Rickley was pulled inside and the door shut.

His head was bleeding from being slammed in the dash and his leg was mangled and twisted. Rickley’s screaming had died down, and now he stared up at Plug with blood filled eyes and tried to suppress the utter panic that seized him in a vice grip– just like how Plug held his wrists.

It was an all too familiar position and he could feel the pain about to come–

But then Plug started to cry and yell at him and he was confused. He didn’t know what was happening– his broken mind couldn’t process the context of the situation. All Rickley knew was that in this position, the stronger man on top–  
He knew this meant he’d be raped again–

But the terrified words from the other was far from what he expected and Rickley just whimpered and cried, blubbering out broken apologies and scared noises as his destructive blue eyes looked away.

“I’m… S….sssoorrrrry…. Ssssss….s-sssorry…..” he sobbed, body quaking uncontrollably.

He was relieved when Plug let go of his wrists– blood was now welling at the punctures from his nails, bruises rapidly forming all over his broken body.

“I’m sorry Rick,” he said in a small, tiny voice. Petrified.

The beaten body below him shook with the feverance of true terror, thin frame quaking harder with each fearful vocalization punctuated by shoulder- wracking sobs. Blood ran down Rickleys’ forehead in crimson streams, catching in the pinkish dips of old scars and wrinkles, clumping wet eyelashes –

It was staining everything. Swaths of alabaster skin were smeared with the startling shade of shimmering red, running over collarbones and dripping from sopping hair to soak into the absorbent foam seats beneath. Getting in between Ricks’ fingers, seeping into the lines of his palms with a grotesque warmth.

The apologies rung out like the toll of a bell, hanging in the air too long, bearing an insurmountable heaviness; Effectively cutting the growing hysteria out of Ricks’ chest like a holepuncher. Leaving nothing but prickling numbness in its’ wake, nerves buzzing like a limb that’d fallen asleep. Breathless.

He felt distant. Like this was a bad dream, and he was simply phasing through its’ vague details in a state of half consciousness.

Mouth hanging agape, pupils narrowed down to pinpoints under a layer of retained wetness, he just… Just stared down at Rickley in crippling disbelief, who struggled weakly to turn his battered face away from him with a primal desperation. Saying he was sorry, voice broken by rasping tones of pleading.

Seeing in full scale how fucking scared he was - how scared Rickley was of him brought this wave of sickly feeling radiating from Plugs’ gut, a building grimace on his face reflecting how his insides felt like they were tearing themselves apart –

He did this.

Rickley tried to kill himself because of him.

Unblinking orbs flicked down to look at his own hands, turning the shaking appendages over so they were palm-up, fingers half curled. He could see the bits of flesh he’d dug out of Rickleys’ arms sitting under the nails. “F-fffffuck!”

He could feel his own body weight sinking into Rickleys’ jutting hip bones. See fresh bruises of purplish-green blooming in the shape of his hands upon wrists, catch sight of a twisted leg from the side of his vision. He could feel the trucks’ gears grinding, the breath forced out of Rickley in short huffs–

No. He couldn’t, he couldn’t.

Plug didn’t know what he was doing, much less where he planned to go, but he - he couldn’t stay inside the truck, sitting on top of Rickley. He was going to, he was going to – he needed out. He needed to get off. Off!

Scrambling to alleviate the presence of his weight from the smaller man, Rick threw open the passenger door and stumbled into the grassy median. Dazed and confused, illuminated by passing headlights and blown by rushes of wind. One foot in front of the other until he stood in the middle of empty black pavement, shirtless and pulling at his hair with slickened hands.

He wanted to bash the meat of his palms into his temples. He wanted a car to come flying around the bend right now.

He fucked up. He’d fucked up bad.

The soft ding, ding of the door alarm carried over the notes of Rickleys’ pained cries, catching Ricks’ attention with a start. The overhead light shone down upon a hopelessly maimed leg - The frame of the metal doorway was dented in where the shin had become pinched, snapping easily under force.

“R-Rickley?” Oh god, he was really fucking hurt. He had to do something, had to close distance and figure out how to - how to fix this disaster that he’d wrought.

Unstable footsteps traversed shakily over patches of grass, toes catching on a mound of dirt created by their skidding wheels. He faintly felt his bad knee hitting the ground with a pop, but the sensation didn’t even phase him. The only thing that mattered was getting there. “R-Rickley!”

It was so much worse up close. The bone was beyond broken, more along the lines of crushed, and it was - it was too hard to tell if it was compound. “F-fucking shit, god damn it.” Rick held onto the open door, stepping up on the footrest as he tried to get a better look at it.

“D-don’t worry Rickley, I’m–” He drew the back of a hand across his face, clearing his blurred sight. Focus! “I-I’m gonna help y-you. Y-y-you’re gonna be f-fine, just - just trust me.” What trust was there anymore? He’d destroyed it.

Grinding knuckles into an eye, Rick tried and failed to keep his brow from twitching, his expression baseline. “I-I-I’m gonna get you some broken leg serum, a-aaaand y-you’ll be okay.” He clenched his teeth. “J-just… juss fine…”

Entranced, Rickley continued to stare at his counterpart in disbelief. He rubbed at his wrists, smearing the blood around slightly. He was in agonizing pain but he tried to hold back the whimpers, knowing that Plug was probably under a lot of stress.

Rickley was coming back down from his panic, his consciousness slowly coming back and trying to make sense of everything that happened. The blinding fear of Plug had scuttled away, though it still hung in the background like a predator about to strike.

He understood everything that happened now– and somehow he knew Plug didn’t mean him harm even though it damaged the trust he had towards him. He knew he would flinch every time he was close.

Watching the man exit the car, Rickley became slightly distressed. Was he going to leave? He couldn’t survive without Plug… The broken man debated calling out for him, but opted for sobs of despair instead. Until he returned.

Now that Rick was near him, speaking a bit to fast for Rickley to process, the smaller felt his welling anxiety cave a bit and let in a few breaths. He was scared but he was more scared of being alone.

His leg twitched in a flinch, body wary that he might touch his injuries. Not that he was opposed to him getting a better look, but for the agonizing pain that consumed his whole being.

Were they gonna be okay? Rick said they would. Maybe… He didn’t know…  
“Tired…” was all he could manage in response, trembling frame shuddering with each new breath.

Yeah, he could imagine that Rickley was tired. The sheer extent of his injuries alone was enough to throw the body into a state of shock; Wounds so exaggerated on Rickleys’ already brittle framework. That leg was as good as gone, the way it stuck out at an unnatural angle, kinked below the knee. Not to mention the blow to the skull from being thrust against plexiglass that carved that cut into his head, the myriad of severe bruises blanketing skin–

At least he was still alive, remaining conscious despite the pain, exhibiting self awareness through reacting to the sound of his voice and the… the threat of touch. Flinching away like a kicked dog at any sign of encroachment, as if anticipating further brutality at his hands.

Plug couldn’t blame him. Not for an instant. If it wasn’t for his fucking stupid actions, the inane idiocy –

Deep breaths. Rick had to stay calm and level headed for the both of their sakes, stifle the biting numbness burrowing into the psyche. “I-it’s gonna - it’s gonna be okay.” The reassurements were hollow at best, fallacies rolling off the tongue in tunes of truth. “Y-you’re okay, R-Rickley.”

He could fix it. He could fix this.

The portal gun was in his pocket. At least, it had been. All that reached his fingertips when he delved a hand into his pocket was mangled scrap and… “Ah!” And shards of greenish glass that embedded themselves into the pads of his fingers, splintered and thin.

The bulb was broken. Somewhere in the chaotic flurry of bodies bending to the will of near terminal velocity, it’d gotten caught between his torso and a hard place; Their only ticket out of here reduced to scrap metal and fizzling wires. “Sh-shit.”

Their mode of transport wasn’t in much better shape. The tires on one side were blown out by the impact, laying across the grass in strips of shredded black rubber. Raw axel dug hopelessly deep into alien muck, buried to the bumper. “Mmmmotherfucker.” They were really, truly, and utterly screwed.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. What was he supposed to do now? He was running out of choices. Pressing hands against his brow with notable force wasn’t helping, even when his wrists started to buckle under the strain.

There wasn’t any other option than to… To take matters into his own hands. Literally.

“L-listen, Rickley.” He leaned into the cab, hovering over his counterpart. Trying to warp his own face to read as close to baseline and unfeeling as he could physically manage. “W-we gotta m-move. W-we can’t stay here.” If they did, Rickley was going to die of his wounds. “Y-you gotta come w-with me.”

It wasn’t any use asking for permission, awaiting until Rickley did or did not find contact comfortable; Rick slid his arms beneath bony shoulders and twiggy thighs, lifting Rickley bridle-style in his arms. He amounted to next to nothing, feather light and cold when pressed against his chest.

“C-c'mon, buddy,” he grunted under his breath, adjusting the figure within his grasp so that he was at least somewhat upright, head equivalent height to clavicle. “H-hhhhang in there, R-Rickley.”

It was a long, dark road stretching ahead of them. Plug could hardly register feet making contact with asphalt no mans land, limping gait carrying them towards semi-distant lights on the horizon.

Broken blue eyes watched Plug’s frustration in a welling fear, body fidgeting uncomfortably at each mumbled profanity. Oh no, this was all his fault–!!

Rickley had opened the door and caused the crash and hurt his leg and now they were stuck here. Plug was probably furious with him, plotting different ways to get rid of him. Maybe he was going to leave Rickley in a ditch or drop him off in an unknown location… Rickley didn’t know but he was sure Plug didn’t want him anymore.

That thought in itself hurt Rickley more than any physical pain ever could. He felt so utterly stupid and angry at himself– he told Plug that he was ready when he obviously knew he wasn’t. It wasn’t Rick’s fault, Rick didn’t know about everything, how would he–

Rickley was pulled from his thoughts when lifted into his partner’s arms delicately. Rickley held onto Plug tightly, fingernails digging lightly into skin in a trembling fear. This was all Rickley’s fault…

His mind was shutting down, eyes unable to stay open but his mouth began to run, mechanically speaking to the man who carried him. Apologies poured out again, and he couldn’t hold back the gentle rain of tears that fell down his cheeks.

“I’m s-sorry, sorry, R-Rrrrrick….” he hiccupped, “I d-didnt mm-mmean i-it…”  
He quiet voice just kept going.

Apologizing for the car, his leg, the blood that began to soak onto Plug’s jacket. He apologized for ruining their celebration and being afraid and dissociating. He apologized for everything bad that had happened until now, whether it was his fault or not. Because he believe it was.

That it was all his fault.

Step by step, unsturdy feet trudged over solid white lines and reflective road tabs at what felt like a snails pace. Soles audibly scuffing with each misstep, catching toes on stray cracks and stumbling. Rick kept his gaze focused straight ahead, forcing sore legs to carry the both of them farther towards some semblance of civilization. Twinkling lights shimmered like beacons, miles away at best.

The broken figure limply cradled in his arms wept softly, breaking the quiet rumble of faraway tires on the road; the ambiance of insects in the median grass and his own panting breath. Rickley clung to him with a pitifully weakened grip consisting of fingertips curling into the fabric of his overcoat, which was now hopelessly stained in steadily growing dark splotches. He wouldn’t have cared if those fingers dug in harder, drove in the nails. He couldn’t feel a thing. Except…

Except this all consuming sensation of self loathing throbbing, pounding from the inside of his forehead. Or maybe that was just the immense pressure from the raging nosebleed painting his chin, trickling down his front. He could taste blood running over the spaces between his teeth, jaw hanging slightly slack as he sucked in breaths of cool night air.

That crash had done a hell of a job sobering him up, rattling the effects of alcohol out of his system. Now he could reflect on what’d happened in an unfiltered light, see it for what it was; How the entire situation spiraled out of his control so fast. How’d they even manage to lose both of their means of travel in one fell swoop? Bust themselves up so badly?

They’d been so… happy.

And now here they were. One of them walking, the other unable; Sobbing out apologies in a trembling voice. Gradually getting quieter.

“K-keep talking.“ That was the only sign that Rickley was still with him, in some presence of mind. “D-don’t fall asleep, Rickley.” He might not wake up if he did.

Plug squeezed his eyes shut. Who’s fault was it, really? Yeah, maybe Rickley giving him permission to - to proceed and the way he reacted contradicted, but - He should’ve picked up on the signals. Should’ve kept in mind what kind of shit he’d been through. Should’ve known that this wouldn’t work out.

Nothing ever did.

He was a Rick, and if there was one constant that their kind believed in, it was that the mere concept of liking someone, or romance or whatever it was called was- it was bullshit. A series of neurological synapses firing off in an animal brain. An instinctual urge to breed that faded away.

Letting his guard down had been the first mistake. Thinking that Rickley actually could find it reasonable to trust him was the second.

They both knew better.

“Y-you staying with m-me, Rickley?” He adjusted his hold, jostling the man in his arms enough to rouse him. There was the slightest twinge of fear that seeped into his voice. Even if this had all gone to shit, even if Rickley hated him enough to try to kill himself, Plug couldn’t deny the fact that they…

They were all they had. Nowhere to go home to, no future, a void past. It was just Rick and Rickley, nobody else. Rick didn’t want him to… to die. “Hey. Don’t- d-don’t make me w-walk this alone.” He swallowed, throat running dry. “L-listen. Y-you hearing me? It wasn’t… y-your fault.”

Wasn’t his fault? But he’d opened the door, he–

Fuck! It was like everything in those moments blended together, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to differentiate who’d done what. “I-I made a-aaa stupid fucking choice.” And he wasn’t referring to letting go of the wheel. “And - and I c-crashed us. I just–”

His fingers absentmindedly curled into Rickleys’ shoulder. “C-couldn’t let you go, Rickley.” Couldn’t let him throw himself out of the truck to his demise. “N-not after where we w-were.”

Rickley’s body was getting colder by the minute, unconsciously shivering as he spoke his apologies that began to turn into incoherent sounds. He was crying a bit harder when Plug spoke to him and he really realized that he didn’t want to die yet but he was so tired.

“W-will I die if I g-go to sleep?” he asked Plug fearfully, the pads of his fingers pulling on his shirt again desperately for some kind of anchor. His body ached so badly that he felt he couldn’t breathe.

The man began to drift away again, eyes drooping from exhaustion and lingering death. He whined as Rick moved him around a bit, a whimpering cry exiting his bloody mouth. “Rrrrick… Uhhhnnnnn…. Uh-huh… Here…” he tried to let him now he was still somewhat there, attempting to hold on as best he could.

Rickley shook his head slightly when Plug said it wasn’t his fault– they both knew it was but Plug didn’t want to admit it. Because Rickley could do no wrong…  
Apparently.

“Don’t w-wanna let you g-gggggooo either R… Rrrrr….rrrrriiick… ” his voice turned into a pleading scared whine, afraid that he was going to die any moment now.

Why had he been so stupid? Why did he think everything he touched? Why didn’t he keep his distance? Rickley knew he was undesirable. They’d been drunk–what was he thinking–!!

He stopped talking for a while, just crying softly.

Shit. This was bad. Beyond bad. This was a manifestation of murphys law, chalked up right with the absolute worst possibility of things that could transpire. It’d taken, what, all of a few hours to go from deleriously overjoyed just to be free to… To here? Struggling to reach the flickering lights before Rickley couldn’t keep words flowing as steadily as the blood.

He… he wasn’t doing so hot. Fading fast like a dying ember, fizzling out into ashen features streaked with brilliant blotches of wet red. Hands getting weaker where they held onto his clothes. Autonomous shivering beginning to die down.

There was always that sense of knowing when you were balancing on the edge. Rickley understood damn well how he wobbled on the tightrope between life and death; The prickling sense of dread in Ricks’ stomach couldn’t deny how he was inclined to agree. There was only so much blood to lose, a limit to the punishment one body could take. Even if they were durable by nature.

That reasoning standing, he still couldn’t… couldn’t let Rickley get too scared. The panic would just increase his heart rate, make him bleed out even faster. “N… no.” The lie didn’t come out with nearly as much confidence as he thought it would. Rick decided to reword his answer, running tongue over chapped lips briefly as he collected harried thoughts. “I-I’m not gonna let you die, R-Rickley.” He let out a strained huff of breath, following the reassurance up with a quiet, “Even if you w-want to.”

If he lost Rickley, well, that’d just be it, wouldn’t it? No more likehearted friend, no more companionship though harrowing events, nobody to share strong drinks with to drown the mutual trauma from living a life inside bars. To ward off what’d felt like ages sitting in the cold dark, being sure of imminent death.

He could do this. He’d figure something out, have a brilliant idea, an interventionary utilization of science that would save Rickleys’ life. And quick. The briskness go his steps and stutter embedded in his speech reflected a growing sense of jaw-clenching internal alarm, mind drifting over a hundred dead-ended possibilities a second.

“C-come on, R-R-Rickley. Don’t you - don’t you - don’t you r-remember what w-we said back in the - those shitty cells?” Forcing Rickley to recollect something would keep him here, his mind occupied. Rick couldn’t bring himself to look down at his alternates’ face, contorted in pain from the corners of his vision. "R-Rick and Rickley, best f-friends, s-sssstaying alive.“ That was the goal. Some halfhearted mantra that they both knew was bullshit. "Y-you gotta- gotta live up to - to y-y-your end of th-the deal, Rickley. D-don’t you l-let me go.”

Rickley whimpered and held onto Plug a bit tighter, trembling and beginning to cry again. He really didn’t want to die… Rick said he wouldn’t let him die but he wasn’t so sure how much control he had over that. They needed to get to the hospital quick…

But as Plug continued to speak, Rickley found a strength he didn’t know he had. He sucked in breaths and opened his eyes to stare up at Plug, nodding up to him. "Rick and Rickley.. ” he whimpered out, “100 years, surviving.. Together… J…just Rick and Rickley… ”

His heart felt like it was going to burst from sadness. He hated the fact that their relationship had been altered in mere hours from their escape from the prison. He just wanted Plug to know he still cared about him…

“I w-wont die, I’ll t-try not to die… Please… H-hurry… ”  
He /was/ terrified but he tried not to show it, though his body shook uncontrollably. His skins was becoming cold to the touch.

“Can w-we go to the beach…. Like… Like y-you said..? Can we… P-please… It’s w-warm there… ”

Fuck. Rickley was really trying to hang on to what remained of his lapsing consciousness, battling to stay self aware. It was hard to judge if he was pulling through this for the sake of himself, or… Or just because he’d told him to fight. Actively try not to die, as if it were a choice overcome by sheer will power.

At least Rickley was still capable of recollecting their old promises, the catchphrase that kept them going for what felt like so long. That notion of one hundred years.

Plug felt the sharp sting of Rickleys’ emotionally charged, wheezed-out words cut his heart out, leaving the space in his chest vacant and aching. The lump caught in his throat barely let him rasp out a strained return of, “One- one hhh-hundred years.”

It was just supposed to be Rick and Rickley. Surviving together.

Except that wasn’t how this was going to play out, was it? Every passing minute only brought a threatening chill sinking deeper into Rickleys’ core, a consistently growing weakness beneath his blood-slickened hand. Limper and limper. No amount of resolve could overpower the very real possibility, the inevitability of succumbing to those injuries.

Despite it all, Rick knew he had to stay strong. For Rickley. Everything had always been for Rickley. So he set his sights determinedly forward, tensed his jaw as he pushed down the rising panic at having zero available options, and –

Can w-we go to the beach? Like you said? Please.

That was it. That was just it.

Features bunched together under a wave of apparent agony, brow furrowing low over watery eyes that rapidly blinked in an effort to combat the distortion that made the road lights bleary; A strangled noise escaping as the corners of his mouth strained downward in a grimmace. It was as if every shred of strength that kept his face composed through the hurt was ripped from under him like a rug.

He couldn’t suppress it anymore. The heartbreak. The immense frustration at himself. The realization that Rickley probably wasn’t… wasn’t going to make it. The fracturedness that this blow would leave in its’ wake.

Why did this hurt so much? It wasn’t like - it wasn’t like he hadn’t already seen dozens of his alternates die gruesomely. It wasn’t like he hadn’t already lost absolutely everyone he ever gave a shit about in his whole stupid fucking life–

No amount of self rationalizing could keep the crushing mental weight at bay. The fear of losing Rickley that squeezed the air out of his lungs, that wrapped around his weakest parts and choked him like a neuse.

This was just the kind of thing that happened, wasn’t it? He made the dire mistake of pursuing his feelings for someone, and this was where it got them. God damn it.

If he had a free hand to obscure his face with, grind out the tears with his palm like snuffing a candle, he would - but all he could do was stare ahead. Hold Rickley a little tighter in the hopes that he wouldn’t notice the shimmering drops sliding down his cheeks, feel some offered comfort penetrating the thick veil of pain. Anything to make him less afraid.

“Y-y-yeah, R-Rrrrickley.” He affirmed his wilting counterparts’ very possibly last request with a sort of uncharacteristic gentleness, forcing a chuckle that only came out sounding misplaced and sad. “W-we- we’re gonna go to th-the beach. S-somewhere with - with - with w-w-white sands and-aaaand warm water, Rickley.” That was the dream. It felt so far away now.

Plug knew somewhere in his gut that he wouldn’t ever be able to look at open water again without thinking of those seafoam eyes, always so sad. Downcast and ill and just once, for a little while there, sparkling and overjoyously happy. “D-don’t you w-worry about a-a thing, R-Rrrrickley, I swear I’ll - I-I’m…”

What was he supposed to do? Supposed to say? What could he do out here in the middle of fuckall nowhere?

This was some sad shit. A Rick without a single good fucking improvisational idea floating around his brain wasn’t much of a Rick at all. "I-I’m sorry.”

Maybe Rickley would let his eyes flutter closed soon, uncertain if they’d ever open again. Maybe he’d find something just around the bend in the road if he just started sprinting, maybe he’d be able to keep him alive with a discarded car battery or –

Thoughts were interrupted by a blinding flash. It was as if they were enveloped by a holy radiance, light sweeping over the both of them where Rick stood in the middle of the highway. Their shadows cast over the pavement towered over them, stretching long before them like lurching giants–

Headlights. Drawing ever closer, slowing to a stop.

Their saving grace. “R-Rickley, can you hear me?” Rick tried to rouse the thin man in his arms, who didn’t seem to be holding fast to staying awake. Blood loss was taking its toll. “R-Rickley!”

Rickley has already drifted away by the time Plug responded to his request, the man’s quiet sobs becoming softer with each passing second. The light in his eyes was slowly snuffed out, and the lids closed for what seemed like that last time. Small, shallow breaths were the only indication that Rickley was alive.

When he was pulled from death by Plug’s voice frantically calling him, he let out a despaired whine and cried a little. He just wanted to sleep now…

The next hours were a blur of consciousness and not, pain and masks and antiseptic smells. He felt an oxygen mask pressed to his face and then he couldn’t remember. He remembered the fear, though, and Rick’s concerned blue eyes glued on him.

He didn’t know how long it had been. Hours, days, maybe even weeks–but when Rickley woke up he was greeted with a dull pain and white, white walls. He tried to move his head but could not. He tried to breath but there was something pumping his lungs for him, keeping him breathing.

His hands were tied down, and he let out a strangled, groggy cry, wanting the tube out of him. It was starting to hurt.

All the while, he did not notice he was being watched by his counterpart. He was in a daze, thrown off guard from being asleep for so long.. And the damn tube in his throat.

The days scraped by at an unforgiving crawl.

The waiting game was painstaking at best, vivicerating at worst. The constant beep, beep of the heart rate machine and oxygen saturation monitor had become a familiar background cadence, punctuated by IV line changes and nurse rounds that gradually became less frequent. Hours passed, and then days, overseen from the helpless point of view granted by the bedside chair. All the while Plug grew more haggard in appearance, with restless dark circles and chewed nails and potent liquor breath.

It was almost funny, how balls-out confident he’d been that Rickley would come back around if they just made it to the hospital - how he’d stumbled into some intergalactic emergency room screaming, demanding a stretcher and STAT blood and help, for fucks sake. Some good that did. They’d taken Rickley into the operating room and wouldn’t let him in; something about how he was in shock, sir, please stop fighting, that he couldn’t intervene. The bastards.

And now here they were - Rickley housed in some broom closet room, unresponsive to the world and dependent on outside elements to stay alive. They didn’t… didn’t get here fast enough. He hadn’t saved Rickley.

There was nothing more anyone could do except wait, watch, anticipate; leaving Rick to rest his head in his bandaged hands and hold his breath and overthink. Every little last detail on what he could’ve done differently, what an idiot he was.

Why did he stick around? He’d fucked up everything already. Truth be told, it just wasn’t like a Rick to get so tied up in things like this, to care so damn much. Something goes wrong, skip out on that shit, right? Find another dimension wherein things went a little more smoothly.

But if there was one thing Plug could be sure of, it was that there’d never be an identical timeframe where everything had panned out like this. This was - it was one in an infinance. Where it was Rick and Rickley, given a second chance outside the bars. Where everything had been going so right until it wasn’t right anymore. Where it’d gone awry, turned from celebratory into…

This. The slowness of days, the body wasted away beneath a thin sheet breathing in time to the hiss of a machine. Caught in limbo between life and death, accompanied all the while worriedly.

Rick couldn’t help it. It was like there was a magnetism drawing him back to the room, no matter how much he tried to step away and tell himself that he shouldn’t care. Since that fateful night he carried a bruised and beaten Rickley down that expanse of long, lonesome highway covered head to toe in blood, he couldn’t…

Couldn’t bear to truly leave Rickleys’ side. Unable to tear himself away for anything longer than a quick trip to the corner store to grab alcohol packaged in tin cans and glass, or deftly pocket handfuls of painkillers off unattended carts in the halls, a skillful combination of which kept his mind semi-comfortably numb as he watched over a rhythmatic rise and fall of a frail chest. Rickley lie there with a stillness profound - for ages, offering naught a twitch nor a sound to indicate anything but unconsciousness. Unawareness. A goddamn vegetable.

Time would tick by while he sat there staring emptily, waiting for something, as if holding out hope that Rickley would suddenly come to. Counting the tiles on the ceiling. Sleeping with his arms folded under his head, slumped on the bed where his alternate self lie. Rambling on half-drunk about stupid shit for hours just to break the silence that was killing him inside. Begging Rickley to wake up, wake up. Rubbing his wet eyes, then lapsing back into feeling nothing –

Wandering the radius of the sidewalk in front of the building when he couldn’t take the suffocating medical presence anymore, pinching half smoked cigarettes up off the sidewalk and scoring sketch deals with even more suspicious characters. But he never strayed too far, for too long - he couldn’t bring himself to. No matter what, Rick just couldn’t leave Rickley. Couldn’t let him wake up alone, right?

Plug let out a long sigh, probably the the hundredth he’d released today as he dully scanned half-lidded eyes over his counterpart. Maybe this was a lost cause. The surgery that Rickley had undergone was risky and disfiguring, and he’d lost such a staggering volume of blood; It was questionable how he’d survived the crash in the first place, after taking the brunt of force. How he’d managed to speak at all when he’d been slumped in his arms.

Maybe he’d live. Maybe he’d die. Rick just had to know, be there to watch the whole thing play out through hazy eyes and the bottom of bottles. All the while trying to convince himself that he’d be okay with the worst. Failing every time. Drowning out the bad thoughts with hits and sips. Repeat.

It’d been a little over a week already. The possibility that his alternate would arise from a comatose state was getting ever more slim. It wouldn’t have taken a genius scientist to deduce that much; it bled through thinning optimism with a glaring obviousness. He could tell by the way the doctors - who knew less than him- stopped coming around, by the unwaivering vital signs, the deep sleep.

That’s why on day nine when he caught movement from the corner of his eye, Rick initially dismissed it. Rickleys’ hand didn’t really twitch. That was just an illusion projected by a tired mind, a pointlessly hopeful counterthought –

Mmmph!

No! Plugs’ listed head picked up, at attention. That was a noise, that was – “H-holy shit!” Rickley was pulling against his restraints, wrists velcroed against the bed frame. No way. He was, he was–

“R-Rickley?!” The mess of tangled legs thrown over the side of the chair clattered to the ground as Plug thrust himself forward in an uncoordinated scramble; Wide eyes fixated on the man in the bed. Standing over him and blocking out the florescent lights shining from above, searching for intelligence in those pale eyes – his eyes were open! “R-Rickley, c-can you - can you hear me?!”

Holy shit, holy shit, he’d pulled through. What a tough as fuck Rick. “W-woah, hey! He’s AWAKE!” Plug called towards the door, grabbing attention of anyone from outside. “HE’s AWAKE!”

Judging by the response time and Ricks’ bewilderment, it was clear that nobody had expected this. The nurses had to practically shove Plug away to work long enough to reverse intebatation, shine bright LEDs in Rickleys’ eyes. Not that he didn’t effectually shoulder his way through anyhow, brow arced high over an awed smile.

“H-holy shit, Rickley!” Rick was practically whooping, too enthralled to hold it in or take a hint from thrown elbows that he was doing more harm than good to a recovering coma victim by shouting excitedly down at him. “Y-y-you’re awake! Ha! Y-y-you woke up, Rickley! I-I-I knew ya would!“

Rickley’s eyes were squinted and blurry, sensitive to the bright hospital lights. He felt so incredibly weak, though when he saw Plug’s face recognition twinged in his blue eyes. He pulled harder on the restraints at that, wanting to be close to Plug.

The flurry of nurses touching him everywhere made his heart beat fast in anxiety, eyes wide and scared. It was too loud and too bright… He couldn’t see anything but the shining flashlight in his eyes.

And suddenly he was breathing on his own in short, shallow breaths with little tube nubs stuck into his nose for oxygen. Gradually, the nurses began to decrease in numbers and they changed his morphine to a higher dose to subdue the pain he’d feel. He still did not notice the missing leg.

When the last nurse left the room, Rickley was exhausted and scared. His pale blues fixed on Rick, waiting for the man to say anything.. To come to him, hold him… Touch him… Just something to acknowledge that they were still there for each other.

Rickley was barely awake though, body beginning to feel heavy from the terrible fatigue that enveloped him violently. Voice raspy, unused, and raw, he spoke one word, “Rrrrrrick……”


	3. Warmth of Your Tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in the third installment of the rp series, i decided to make Rickley trans because it reflected how I wanted to portray him better... also im trans and i wanted to add it anyway LMAO

“Well, at- aaauuuhp least y-you healed up pretty good, huh?“

This… wasn’t exactly easy. Breaking this awkward mood that’d settled in over the two of them like a shroud during the course of their impromptu road trip was going to be a challenge, to say the least.

Rick wasn’t exactly doing the most grandeur job of uplifting his passengers’ spirits. Any way he flipped the viewpoint in an attempt to turn it somehow positive, it didn’t change the reality of the situation: Rickley was coping with a… dramatic lifestyle change. However clean the scarring or well healed the wound, there was no going back on that whole loss of limb thing. The thin frame of his alternate self in his peripheral view was more mutilated than ever, all deep tiredness and half a leg.

Even a poorly projected jovial mood on Plugs’ behalf couldn’t quite penetrate the somberness of that standing factor. It was impossible to ignore. Making light of the situation was almost comically inappropriate - not that Plug Rick could exactly judge accurately, thanks to the moderate drunkenness that he’d achieved well before noon.

“Y-you’re not so bad off, Rickley, y-y'know? Really.“

The windows were rolled down halfway, enough so that Plug could flick the grey ash off his lit cigarette out into the rushing air, while his other hand sat lazily atop the steering wheel. Some tin can full of cheap alcohol rattled in the cup holder as wheels bumped over an asphalt overpass, a dull roar that competed with fiercely whipping wind that blew through his blue hair. Weary eyes slid over to glance over at his companion every once in a while - moreso double checking the security of the door lock or the confirmation of the double seatbelts criss-crossed upon his chest than the… the look on Rickleys’ face.

Things were rough, sure. But that was all about to change, right? The smell of beach salt was going to hit them any mile now, Rick was confident of that much. So he tightened his grip on the steering wheel of some two-door that they’d hotwired, watching the white clouds and the grooves in the pavement pass them by.

“Y-y-you’re aaaaall patched up and - ” he reached over to take a sip from his beer before returning a hand to the steering wheel. “A-aaand we’re almost to the beach, R-Rickley.” That ought to be good news. “Shits on the - on the - on the come up for Rick and Rickley, dawg.” It’d been their goal through thick and thin, to spend sunny days by the waters’ edge and worry about the rest later.

Even if there was a lot to worry about, with the one of them all torn to pieces like this. Wounded profoundly to the point of being unable to even walk on his own, for fucks sake–

Don’t think about it.

“L-listen, listen, Rickley,” Rick began as he clutched his half burned cigarette between forefinger and thumb, taking another hit before casually offering the remnants to his alternate as a distraction. “W-we’re gonna - gonna make good on them - those plans we had, Rickley.” The ones they’d talked about in the midst of dark prison cells, promised in shaky voices on a journey down lonely highway laced with despair - a theoretical, picturesque dream where they’d be spending time on the high side, indulging in nothing but chill vibes and good times.

Maybe injecterjecting with a little enthusiasm would help them both. “C'mon!” He thumped the meat of his palms on the leather stitching on the wheel, flashing a grin to hide the split second of guilt that always crossed his features every time he looked over, trying not to pay that missing section of flesh any mind.

“W-w-we oughtta be hype! Beach side liiiiivin’, R-Rickley!” He excitedly announced, turning back to the road just in time to straighten their course to back within the constraints of their lane. “Just - just two - two, uh–” he fumbled over choosing an adjective, furrowing his brow before coming to a decision. “Two best friends, headed oceanside, R-Rickley!” 

Rickley was not ready to go back into this “normality” that they’d forced upon themselves. Well, more that Plug had forced. He knew it was difficult for him to look at the way Hebwasnt now and not be discouraged, and Rickley hated that. He didn’t want to be the cause of that.

But he was just… Not well. The gnarled scar tissue served as a threatening reminder of his weakness. He had been feeling especially insecure lately, because he’d lost his ace bandages he’d stolen back at the truck stop, and he couldnt even bind–

He groaned at himself, staring out the window. He ignored most everything Plug said, way too lost in his thoughts. He merely spoke, softly, “How far until w-we’re there…?” His sad blue eyes pulled away from the scenery out the window, taking the nearly finished cigarette and sucking in a long drag. This was difficult.

The most embarrassing thing of this all, though, were the restraints across his chest and the control locked doors. He felt like a child that couldn’t help himself from throwing himself into oblivion. He wouldn’t do it again, at least not now. But he sort of understood Plug’s reasoning, even if he was humiliated by it.

“I hope we get there s-soon…”

The distinct notes of melancholy in Rickleys’ voice didn’t come as much of a surprise. He’d been sad like this for as long as Plug could remember - the sustained injury only compiled everything into a heap of intense shittiness that was reeeeally dragging his companions’ already dampened spirits down ever further.

They were pursuing their dreams as free men. They were supposed to be happy.

Ricks’ shoulders fell as the zeal he formerly expressed lapsed, bright smile dulling to a pained twitch. It’d been a stupid idea to try and coax something other than misery out of his alternate, huh? Things were just… hard on him.

The sympathy was eating him alive, even when he wasn’t leering at his well secured passenger. Rick reasoned with himself that it was only because he could relate to the traumatic nature of that substantial wound, but he - he knew better enough to understand that the sickly feeling in the bottom of his guts arose from just why Rickley had thrown himself out of a moving vehicle in the first place. Made an attempt at suicide that nearly succeeded.

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?

Showing little concern for his responsibility behind the wheel, Rick chugged roughly a fourth of his warm beer in an effort to at least momentarily drown out the thoughts that whirled around inside his head. Any alternative was better than dwelling on that for too long. Jeez, did this shit sting.

Not that he’d dare show it, openly express an ounce of feeling. They couldn’t afford to both wallow in despair, so he’d just - he’d just have to balance it out by staying positive. Maintain an air of nonchalant ease in the face of all this suffocating guilt dogging his every move. After all, he’d always been the one of them that could pretend to keep his shit together the best.

“W-we’re eeeurp n-not too far off now, R-Rickley.” They couldn’t possibly be; this /was/ the intercoastal highway. Maybe that’d help perk Rickley up a little, although he honestly doubted it. His companion sullenly puffed on the cigarette, blue eyes staring listlessly out the window. How long had they been cruising without making eye contact even once?

Breaking the quiet rumble of the wind was all he could do to combat the creeping awkwardness. “Pretty soon here, w-we’re - we’re gonna have our feet in the - in the sand, Rickey, a-and–” He cut himself off short, squinting out at the horizon.

Rick bumped his companions’ shoulder with an elbow to draw his attention. “Ch-check it out, Rickley, look!” As they crested the hill of the overpass, a strip of brilliant blue showed itself in the mid-distance; spotted by foamy white wave breaks and patches of blinding light where the sun reflected off moving water. The ocean, at long last.

“See? Al-almost there, dawg! Hah.” The laugh was short and almost as forced as Plugs’ efforts to make believe that everything was okay. “Beach side cabana bars, here w-we come, am I - am I right?”

When Rickley finished the cigarette, he let the wind from outside suction it into the air, disappearing somewhere far behind the car. The window was only opened slightly, to Rickley’s sadness, and he couldnt fit his hand through.

He half listened to Rick’s words. He didn’t really believe any of it… That they’d be happy, or something. But at least Plug was trying.

Melancholy thoughts were severed by Plug’s excitement, pointing out the window to the destination they’d waited for, for so long. Rickley was a little happy, trying to sit forward for a closer look but the seatbelts restrained him. That made a pang in his heart cry out, and he just stopped moving, watching the ocean from his seat.

“I want to sleep i-in the sand…” he said quickly. “Right away… I’m so t-tired..” he let out a small yawn, shuddering slightly.

He wanted to sleep in the sand while Plug held him close and told him it would be okay. Any other way, he didn’t want it. He just wanted to feel loved again…

The sharp click of the seatbelts automatically locking up on their tracks signaled an attempt on Rickleys’ part to move. He glanced over only to ensure that he was still strapped in snugly. While it wasn’t exactly the most comfortable way to go about preventing uh, further injury, it sure was working. Rickley was safe as could be, which was - was really all that counted.

Rick let out a contented sigh. The sight of the sea gently rippling towards land could bring a sense of calm to even the most fretted mind. It was just like that for people. Rick figured that the feeling the ocean envoked could be retrospectively attributed to some innate human instinct to return to where their predecessors came from - although he didn’t yknow, actually give a shit. He liked it.

The road brought them to a wide arc running alongside lapping blue waves, each breaking with a rolling thunder that rumbled outside. The beach was dotted with twisted palms and pure white swaths of land, complimenting the crystal clarity of the water itself. To which Rick elegantly described with a slurred, “It looks- looks nice as fuck, R-Rickley, holy shit.”

It was like everything that happened to them could be set aside for just a moment, /this moment/, driving alongside the ocean. It was awfully soothing. The salt carried on the moist air felt crisp, the sun was warm and high in the sky; No wonder Rickley was opting for a midday rest on the shoreline.

Besides, there was little that Rick wouldn’t oblige to just for Rickley, and - and he did reeeeally want to dig his toes in the sand and… Catch his breath, so to speak.

Plug slapped a hand on the dashboard. “Th-then let’s - letsss do it, R-Rickley, lets - let’s go!” No hesitation, no second thought, not even worried about a thing. He settled back into his seat with a benign grin. “W-we got some serious r-relaxation to catch uuurp on, dawg.”

Plugs’ hand tightened on the steering wheel, other reaching for his drink yet again. Wasn’t that the understatement of the year? Maybe the taste of sun-heated malt liquor would quell his busied thoughts.

At least it was peaceful out here, with the absence of life in general. There was no fences, no sectioned off beach–

Nothing to prevent Plug from whirling the steering wheel and driving them from pavement to straight out onto the sand. “Yeet!”

They bumped harshly over drastically different terrain, coming to a stop with a lurch that sent Ricks’ drink sloshing against the steering column and Rickley undoubtedly pulled against the restraints. Whew, good thing he was buckled in.

Rick yanked the key out of the ignition with finality, deliberately flicking it out the window. “Woof, th-that’s- th-that was my bad, R-Rickley, huh? Hah!” He peered down into the tin can still clutched in his hand with a speculatory raise of a brow, noting its’ emptiness. It was probably for the best that he stopped driving for a while.

But hey, they made it. At long last, it was going to be Rick and a Rickley, living it la vida loca at the beach. Cracking open his door, Rick stuck a foot out onto the sand and stepped out. “Alright, let’s- let’s get innnn that water!”

Oh, shit. His eagerness almost caused him to forget. Rick hesitated, blinking back at Rickley. The leg. Right. “Oh w-wait, you need - yeah.” Things had changed. Even a simple task like getting out of the car upright was a challenge for newly amputeed Rickley. “Here, let me– lemme help.“

Circling around to the passenger side door, Rick pulled it open. “H-hold on, I - I gotchu.” Leaning into the cab of the car, Rick clumsily crossed an arm over his alternates’ body to undo his knotted seatbelts. Their faces were close enough to feel each others’ breath on, for a split second. Rick stunk of cheap hopps and didn’t look up. “Th-there. You want, uh– you want y-y-your crutches, or…?”

Rickley let out a surprised gasp when they were whipped onto the sand, feeling his body straining against the restraints. He let out a loud cough before looking over at Plug, who shot him an apologetic look. He wasn’t upset, though, they were at the beach.

And then Rickley himself, forgot. He forgot that he was missing his leg from some sort of accident that had him falling out of the car… He didn’t remember why.

When Rick rushed around to help him, his happiness fizzled out and he slumped back against the seat. He looked over at Rick when he was being released from the restraints, broken ocean blues blinking slowly up at him, glossy and far off.

“The… The crutches w-wont work in the sand..” he said softly, his skinny arms moving to clutch onto Plug. His face was dusted pink, and his lips quivered at the closeness of their faces. He pushed his thoughts away, breathing steadying.

“Would y-you carry me? J-just until we g-get by the shore.. I w-want to lay with y-you…”

Well, Rickley sure had a - he definitely had a point, there. Those flimsy crutches wouldn’t be nearly steady enough in the soft sand to hold him up at all, which really narrowed down their available options. Transportation from point A to point B would be next to impossible for Rickley on his own. Unless he crawled.

Carrying him was the only realistic choice. Even still, there was a faint flicker of second thought, a doubtfulness passing over Ricks expression - That meant they’d be close. “O-oh, uuh…” His half-lidded, hazy gaze flicked up to lock eyes with his alternates’; Those baby blues were so goddamn sad, dancing with reflections from the expanse of waves beyond.

Rick could feel his own expression soften as twiggy arms reached up and encircled his shoulders, fingers curling into shirt fabric to find purchase. He couldn’t get his voice to steady out when he spoke, just stuttering. He… he said he wanted to lie on the beach with him. “Y-yeah, Rickley, s-sure, I-I-I’ll–”

Clearing his throat, Rick averted his eyes elsewhere so that this moment didn’t get… Weird, or something. He was trying not to notice the flush of color defining Rickleys cheeks that must arise from embarrassment. He drew the back of a hand across his mouth in an effort to hide his own faint blush. “Of - of course I-I’ll carry you. Ha hah.” Anything for Rickley. “W-what’re friends for?”

There was a degree of awkwardness involved with the process of picking Rickley up. Plug had to press his companion flush against his chest in order to slip arms around his thin body - One arm encircling the square of his back, the other finding itself beneath the crook of Rickleys’ good leg. All the while doing his best to create a comfortable support against his torso before lifting.

The little effort that it required to remove Rickley from the vehicle stood as a testament to his true fragility. The man in his grasp didn’t weigh enough for this to be remotely difficult, even for Ricks’ old bones. “Theeeere we go,” he breathed, adjusting Rickley in his arms, carrying him bridal-style. He could feel shaky breath against his clavicle as the smaller man clung to him. “I-I got ya, R-Rickley. D-don’t - don’t even trip.”

The last time they’d been in a position like this, the situation hadn’t been under such pleasant circumstances. He didn’t chance a look down, trying to ignore the stump resting on his forearm that bore a constant reminder of –

Forget it.

Uneven steps brought them down to the shoreline where boulders stood like thrones beside the ocean, where waves crashed onto the land; Holding Rickley gently until they reached a strip of dampened sand. It was a perfect place to catch a couple Zs, basking in the sun.

Loosening his hold to set Rickley down, Plug proceeded with the utmost care: letting him get his leg beneath him before crouching, bringing the both of them to sit where the water just barely lapped at their feet. Rick found himself looking up into Rickleys’ eyes, chewing his lower lip in uncertainty. This distance of only inches, this hold that Rickley had on him was just… intimate.

“Y-y-you can uh… l-let go now.”

Rickley just stared up at the blue sky, grimy fingers struggling to find purchase on the other man’s stained labcoat. He tried to cling to the feeling of being held, some sort of desperate need for physical comfort taking over.

He turned his head to stare at the crystal blue water, holding back a cry of pure emotion. They’d finally made it to the beach. Even if Plug seemed distant. Even if he was missing a leg. Even if he was so scared. They’d… Made it.

He looked up at Rick when he was lowered into the damp sand. They locked eyes for a moment before it was broken, Plug voicing what they both were thinking.

But he didn’t want to let go. Not when they’d finally come so far.

But Rickley did, anyway. He hated to make Rickley uncomfortable… So he would do anything for him. Though his heart felt like it was tearing at the seams, slowly deflating in his chest and sinking into his gut.

“O-okay.. Sorry..”  
He moved his body away slightly, letting his toes dip into the calm water.

Rickley’s mind wandered and he couldnt help but wonder what he did wrong. Plug seemed so far away. They never held hands anymore. He felt like Rick had given up everything after he’d lost his leg. That… Made sense…

He didn’t want to cry, but the tears came anyway, silent and vague. Enough to hide from Plug.

He moved to lay on his side, facing away from the other man. He closed damp eyes, a quiet sob wracking his body.

The two of them separated from one another with mutual pause, a degree of hesitation in the way they detangled their limbs and didn’t quite meet eyes. Sometimes they looked so similar that it became difficult to differentiate where one of them began and the other ended until they parted. The permanent matching rings of scar tissue that they wore upon their wrists didn’t help.

“N-no, hah, it’s- it’s fine,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared out at the foamy sea. The last thing he wanted to do was make Rickley think there was good reason for apologizing when he required help due to his relatively fresh injury; although a part of Rick believed that the sorry wasn’t about that.

Maybe some thoughts were best ignored in favor of keeping the peace. This was - this was better, wasn’t it? Maintaining his distance would translate into cutting out the risk of scaring Rickley again. That was… that was good, right?

Yeah. Sure it was. Everything was fine. Wjat was he even worried about? They could finally sit back on the shoreline and relax as the water pulled in and out, lukewarm and constant.

Having a moment of quiet offered the perfect opportunity to catch up on more important things, anyway. From within his overcoat, Rick retrieved a third of dark liquor in a conveniently pocket-shaped bottle, unscrewing the cap with a muted whirr –

And proceeded to straight chug a generous portion of it, drinking until he didn’t have any breath left to hold.

“Aah,” he breathed, upper lip briefly curling in response to the sting in his throat. Thaaaaat was better.

“Y-you - you know ssssomethin’, R-Rickley?” The warm tingle of intoxication tickled at his brain, making Rick wobble in place where he sat upright on the beach. “W-we made it. We - w-w-we done did the th-thing.“

Wait, did that make sense? Sure it did. “Just Riiiick and Rickley, one - one hundred yearsss b-beach…”

Thunk. Plug fell back against the sand in a less than graceful sprawl, squinting up into the bright rays of sun. Eyelids drifting closed in the heat, thoughts dizzy while he lie parallel to his alter ego curled next to him in unbeknownst agony. "H-hhhhundred… Bess frien…”

He was out.

Rickley just listened to him blabber on, smooth tears slipping down his cheeks that were already blotted with grains of sand.

Sand got everywhere. Kind of like this feeling Rickley felt… It invaded even the deepest, most closed parts of him and would not wash away. Not even with the cool tides lapping at his foot.

When Rick stopped talking, he looked over at him, disappointed to find him passed out already. It was almost cruel for Plug to get so drunk and then not offer Rickley any, letting him sit in this numbing pain that would not go.

Rickley’s crying increased to audible sobs, masked by the crashing of waves. He stared up at the cloudless sky and sat in pure emotional agony. Plug hated him. He hated him and he thought Rickley was disgusting, that’s why he wouldn’t hold him, that’s why–

He whimpered and shuffled closer to him in the sand, pressing his face to his shoulder and crying softly. He just wanted to be close with him. He didn’t understand why.  
\--

“R-Rickley! Hey Rickley, w-wuuuake up!”

Many an hour had slipped by since they’d fallen asleep at the oceans’ front, lulled by the gentle currents. The sky had long ago given way to an almost ethereal darkness, an inky black that hung over the pitch expanse of sea, making it impossible to see the separation between air and water. The flickering lights of distant stars shone back from the surface.

That was the scenery that Rickley would’ve been seeing if not for a familiar face blocking the view, anyway. Rick was standing hunched over him with hands on his knees, calling down at the small form curled in the sand with a lopsided grin. “Y-you awake? Huh?” Just to check for sure, he gingerly nudging one of Rickleys’ shoulders in order to rouse him.

Only when sparkling eyes rolled around to peer up did his efforts cease. He beamed down at the man coming into consciousness, greeting him with a pleasant, “H-hey, theeeere’s- theeere’s m-my main man R-Rickley!”

If there was one thing that could be immediately judged based off enthused behavior alone, it was that Rick was in a particularly good mood. Maybe that had something to do with why he was shirtless and wide-eyed, hair windblown and wild. “Hey, Rickley. S-so listen. L-listen, Ruuuhp-Rickley.”

Sinking down to crouch in the divet of sand that Rickley had made himself at home in, Rick steepleed his hands as if about to address something of importance. “Listen, y-you wuh-wouldn’t believe thissshit, but-”

He jutted a thumb back to point inland, maybe twenty yards up the beach. “Th-they’re throwing a f-fuckin’ turnup function, daaaawg!”

Sure enough, flashing lights and muted music reverberated from inside of a modest wooden house that stood on shallow stilts, warping boards all painted white. It seemed to glow all on its’ own against a backdrop of shadowy grasses and stumbling forms of partygoers that poured in and out of the front door.

“I-it’s lit as fuuuck in th-there, R-Rickley!” The excited glow in his eyes was only slightly dampened by drunkenness that wafted off his breath potently. “Th-they already gave me like, a-aaaa bag of sumn dank ass weed a-and I did a gnarly keg stand and –”

Apparently he’d been busy while his partner snoozed peacefully, leaving him for at least a short time to go scope the scene out. “A-aaand I told them aaaall uh-about you, Rickley!”

How could he resist? Alcohol loosened his tongue, and they were a duo through and through, after all. Unfortunately for Rickley, he was in far too much of a rush to specify what he’d told who; too eager to stay here. “C'mon! Y-you gotta come an-and meet my new friends, R-Rickley!”

Taking liberties into his own hands, Rick took his companion by a wrist and wrapped the arm around the back of his own neck, trying to pull him onto his feet. Foot. “Th-they’re just - just gonna love y-you, Rickley!”

Rickley has ended up falling asleep peacefully to the sound of the waves and Rick’s soft snoring. It was cut short, though, by a familiar and unusually jovial voice. He eyes squinted open to look up at Rick.

“..hhh… Huhhh?” Rickley whined, rubbing at his eyes. “What are you talking about? Did you l-leave me out here?” he said quietly, biting his lip harshly. Did he even care about him anymore?

His damp blue eyes shot up at the notion that they /knew/ something about him. That struck a fear in his chest and he tried to pull always a little, just for a breath. Plug seemed happy with these new… Friends.  
Had he already found replacements?  
Someone who doesn’t flinch or cry whenever they are touched?  
Someone who doesn’t actively try to kill themselves?

Rickley was not okay. This trust he had for Rick was steadily cracking but of course his feelings stayed solid. He couldn’t hear the waves over Plug’s voice anymore.  
Rickley wanted to forget that this happened. He wanted to push it into the back of his mind and just enjoy himself. Forget the prison, the confinement, the hazy days in the hospital… Forget those feelings that felt like the sand, getting everywhere, messy, uncontrollable. If there was a drug that could do that, it sounded like that party was his best shot.

So, he bit back the tears, taking Plug’s hand again for support. He let out a pitiful noise, “Ooohhhh.. Owowow owww!! R-Rrrrrrick, my leg–” he fell against him slightly, clutching onto him tightly. It felt kind of nice though, the pads of his fingers attempting to grip onto his bare skin.

“Just as long as I get drugs…” he said defeatedly.

The sheen of forehead sweat and overall frazzled demeanor on Plugs’ behalf suggested that he’d been exerting a lot of energy, and didn’t seem to intend to stop anytime soon. It was unclear just how long he’d been away investigating this house party, and didn’t seem too perturbed by Rickleys line of meek questioning. “Hah! I-I came back f-for ya, didn’t I?” Leaving him would have involved, y'know, not returning, right? He almost laughed in Rickleys’ face - why wouldn’t he come back?

They’d been through too much for that.

The following silence must be the nerves getting to Rickley, the anticipation. This was going to be their first full scale function attended since they’d met under cagey, decrepit circumstances.

“D-don’t you eeeurp w-worry, Rickley,” he assured his doppelganger in half-belched speech, “Y-y-you’re gonna be th-the life of the par–”

His slurred words of encouragement were interrupted by an “oof” as Rickleys’ weight drastically shifted with cries of pain. He hadn’t gotten quite used to his new center of balance resting entirely on that one leg; the joints strained and simply gave. “Oh sh-shit–!”

Arms instinctively moved to intercept the fall as Rickley toppled, leaning his unstable weight against his bare chest, fingers splayed across ribcage trying to find a hold. Those hands were cold enough to send a shiver down anyones’ spine, even though it was warm out. “W-woah! Hah, cl-close one.“ But hey, no worries. This was fine.

Ah, the mere mention of drugs drew Ricks’ mouth into a smile; That was his old way of life, his namesake, and he was finally getting a ticket back into the scene. "F-fuckin’ with you on th-that one, R-Rickley! Hah.” He had a certain craving to feel comfortably numb swimming in the back of his mind, an itch that needed to be scratched. “I-I’m gonna get sooo crunk.”

The path wasn’t far, salvation contained in red solo party cups and novelty print baggies awaiting them. Rick bent to sweep the good leg out from under Rickley, carrying him up towards old shutterboards and dimly lit porch steps with as much casualty as he could muster. “I m-mean, w-we’re getting so w-wasted, R-Rickley. It’s - it’s gonna be great!”

The talking helped him ignore the soft hair, the big eyes that made something in his chest twinge; setting Rickley down only as they reached the doorway, eyes of loitering alien attendees hanging around outside watching them curiously.

With one arm supporting Rickley under the shoulders to keep him upright, Rick limped them both through the door. The inside was lit up colorfully, resounding bass laden beats shaking through the floorboards. Rick threw his free arm up in the air. “H-HEY! I-I’m baaaa-aaaack!”

The modest house must’ve been packed with well over a hundred people, pressed together like sardines. And every single one of them, with their otherworldly features and plastic cups in hand, greeted him upon entry like they were all old buddies at a reunion.

“Hey! Ricks’ back!”

“Hey guys, it’s Riiiiick!”

“Yoooo whaddup, Riiiick?!”

The welcoming comittee had really taken a shine to him. Rick waved a hand, his grin spreading ear to ear. “Sup, guys? Haha, wuba luba dub duuub!”

“Wuba luba dub dub!” The crowd echoed back in unison, dead to the meaning behind the phrase.

“Yeeeah!” Rick jostled his companion a little. “M-meet my - my best friend e-ever, Rickley!”

The introduction came with its’ own series of cheers and drinks held into the air. Someone pointed at his missing leg. “Is that who–”

Rick took the whole thing in stride. “F-fuck, yeah! He got - got bitten by a shark!”

That was a blatant lie, but it sure as hell made for a good party story. One that Rick had already apparently told and was subsequently rolling with. Anything was better than… than the truth.

Besides, this version of how Rickley had lost his leg would earn maaaad points amongst the general populous.

Oh shiiiit! A shaaaark!“

That’s soooo sick, bro!”

Rickley had a feeling this would not go well.

When he was picked up, he just hung onto Plug and closed his eyes, the lights and booming music making it harder for him to hear his own thoughts. When Plug let him down, he clung to the man, trembling slightly.

Rickley did not want to be seen right now. He was dirty and he didn’t have a binder on, and he was so fucking fat–

He pushed it to the back of his mind, those thoughts making him want to vomit until there was nothing left.

He stayed closed to Rick, staring at the foreign faces with a bit of fear in his eyes. When they pointed to his leg stump, he immediately flinched and looked over at Plug quickly. A shark? What a lie… But everyone seemed to like it.

As people crowded around them he felt himself get way too stressed out, afraid that Plug would be pulled away and he would fall onto the hard floor, being trampled by high heels and pumps.

"C-Can I sit down?” he asked dizzily over the music, still holding on tight. “I want something that will make me pass out… Or just feel super doped up…”

How could this night turn out any better in their favor? Really. Less than a day by the warmth of the tides, and they were already landing themselves in the midst of some seriously bangin’ beachside get togethers.

Despite everything that they’d endured together, Plug had to admit that recent transpired events hadn’t been too entirely unpleasant. First he drove drunk all the way to the beach, only to fall sound asleep under the sun and wake up just to go waltzing into a party?

Things were good, he told himself. All this presence of hard alcohol and deafening subwoofers - It was almost enough to make Rick briefly forget his worries, the pain lodged soundly between his ribs every time he looked at Rickley in the right light. Here in close quarters and confines, hanging on to one another as a passing pink filters glided over a nervous expression–

Maybe he should try to focus on something else. Like what the hell Rickley was trying to tell him over the bumping speakers.

“W-what?” He half-shouted, and then a split second later seemed to process the gist of what had been said. “Shit down?” Was that what he said? That made enough sense. “Y-yeah, man, everybody here is - is this close to gettin’ schwifty!”

Oh, shit - This conversation would have to continue elsewhere. The trembling man clinging to his side wouldn’t last long on that leg, and collapsing here in the middle of the throng would definitely count as a party foul.

Lucky for Rick and weary Rickley, there was a place on a cream pleather sofa left open for them. They might find themselves pushed a little close together in the available dimensions between chair arm and alien, and they sat almost directly in front of one of the speakers, but this niche was comfortable enough.

🎶–grew up living my life in bottles, granddaddy had the golden flask –🎶

Reclining without a care in the world, Rick threw an arm over the back of the chair and sunk into the cushions. “Th-this is the life, R-Rickley. Th-the life worth livin’.” In contrast to being sober, this was a whole world of difference. “Oh fuuuck, dude – here!”

Somebody had handed Plug a pair of double stacked styrofoam cups, compliments of whoever was serving it out of a mysteriously magenta water tank. Rick shoved one of the drinks into his partners’ hands, ice cubes sloshing around under a surface of purpleish liquid.

“Y-you gotta try thissshit, R-Rickley!” He was yelling over the background noise. “Th-this’ll have you - it’ll have you leanin’!”

It smelled too sweet to be alcohol, and didn’t carry the sting; Instead the cocktail was sugary and syrupy as it slid over the tongue. Rick didn’t pause before tilting the cup to his lips with a pinky extended, favoring the vaguely medicinal taste reminiscent of candy. Oh yeah, this was going to hit the spot. “Hahaaa! W-we’re gonna get f-faded as f-fuuuck!”

Its’ flavors would pair nicely with this blunt that a tentacle-armed creature was currently trying to hand Rickley. He received a nudge of an elbow from Rick to spur him to take it. “D-don’t break the - the - the rotation, R-Rickley!”

Rickley was half tempted to cover his ears at the loud booming of the speaker, but decided not to in favor of taking the cup that Plug was handing to him. He peered into it, not quite sure what it was… But he had a good idea. Yeah. He wanted this.

He tilted the cup quickly, practically chugging the syrupy liquid. He wanted to get high as soon as possible…

He was so preoccupied with the drink that he hadn’t noticed the blunt held towards him, and quickly took it when Plug nudged him. He pinched it between his fingers lightly, closing his eyes and taking in a long hit. He let out a smoky breath, body getting heavier with each passing second.

He handed it to Plug then, lying back and sipping on the rest of his neon colored drink. He felt his mind spin, body seemingly floating above the couch. He looked around at the bright rave lights and alien bodies. He felt so disconnected and gone, seemingly not even hearing anything.

“Nnggh… Rick…” he groaned out, glassy baby blue-green eyes staring at him. He was leaning against him now, feeling too heavy to move his body.

There it was: the enthusiasm that Rick had been waiting on to show its’ face. Deep down, he’d just known that his companion would come to enjoy these strange drugs as much as he did. After all, they were, in all technicality, the same person.

Hell, it really hadn’t taken much convincing to get Rickleys’ ball rolling. He took to the shimmering cupful of purp like an old pro, tipping it back without a care for potency. It required somebody with a real endurance to chug lean like Rickley did.

Or maybe that was just due to inexperience. “Haha, oh shiiiit, R-Rickley!” He jeered over blasting verses and treble. “N-n-no sippen’, straight boolin on the drank!”

This was the whole reason behind why he’d dragged Rickley into the heart of this action – to get him as wriggity wrecked as he was, so they could both just relax and have a good time. Celebrate being outside bars in style…. No matter how shattered the pieces of their lives were that they had yet to puzzle back together.

The whisps of thick smoke trailing up towards the ceiling put this sort of haze over the densely populated room, bathing it in shades of grey; It wasn’t like Rick was interested in being able to see by the end of tonight, anyway.

He didn’t want to remember anything.

Taking in a long draw off of the blunt that Rickley passed to him, Plug tried to savor the feeling of puffing high quality weed. “Damn.” He’d missed this shit more than anything when he was in lockup. It carried different tastes when compared to the thick tar that backed cigarettes - this was a cleaner sensation on the lungs, a buzz that started in his brain and softened all the edges. Yeah… This kush was pretty alright, albeit a little on the skunky side.

But damn if it wasn’t crossing just right with this purple concoction that rested more than halfway empty in his hand, vaguely smelling of cherries. He was starting to feel featherlight and heavy simultaneously, mind slipping into a comfortable place.

Exhaling as he slid deeper into the increasingly comfortable couch, he drew the smoke back up through his nose, then blew rings between fingers. A well practiced skill that left his eyes feverishly focused on thin white circlets wobbling up through the air…

Until he felt a sensation pressing into his side that drew his attention. It took him a delayed moment to blink over at Rickley, who was leaning on his arm with a slouch. His eyes bored dull holes through him, becoming wet and ghostly as he faded into a blissful cloud of weighted body and mindless thoughts. There were underlying layers opening up in peripheral vision as they sank deeper into codeine dreamland, revolving slowly on a fixed axis of skin on skin.

“Wuh?” Plug questioned almost nonsensically, one eyelid hanging lower than the other. The movement around them left haunting trails of color, bringing the focus of Rickleys’ face into cleaner view. He looked… worried? Maybe just high. Moaning out his name almost in his ear.

Their faces were close. They had to be, in order to hear over the rhythmatic background beats. “Y-you - yyyou like thissshit or whuh?” His own voice came out warped and sloppy, uncoordinated. “Just wuh-wait ‘til w-we really get innit, haha…”

The lopsided smile that Rick wore slowly began to lose its’ power, slipping away as he stared back into Rickleys’ baby blues. It was like hypnosis, or a magnetic pull.

“Y-you’re my - my bess friend, y-you know that?” He wasn’t sure why the words were slipping out - it just felt right. “I-I dunno what I’d - I’d do wuh-without yhhhou, ya know?” He clapped a hand on Rickleys’ bony shoulder. “Yer real, reeeeal s-special. Special t-to me. Now - now lets do sumn fuckin’ lines.”

On the coffee table before them gathered aliens chopping up a powdery white substance with credit cards, evening it out into even hits. Rick wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to kick things back into high gear. “C-c'mon, Rickley, let’s get - get fucked uuuuuup!”

Rickley was so high he could barely process what Rick was saying. Something about being special, fuck, Rick was special. He was so special. He wanted to kiss him but he was too high to move–  
What the fuck was he thinking? Must be the, yknow, drugs…

Rickley let out another groan and shifted against him slightly, closing his eyes, the ghosts of bright colors dancing behind his eyelids. “Ddddddont think I cccan mmmove, hhelp me do it? Wanna… Nnng… Wanna do the… the thing..”

He struggled to open his eyes again, and when he did, he saw the ghosts of hands in his peripheral. He tried to turn his head quickly but couldn’t, shooting a jittery paranoia into his system. The only thing that grounded him was the hand clutching Plug’s arm.

“Rick, wwwhu, what the fuck is hhappening? Where am I…”

It probably wouldn’t be long until he passed out, memory of this night most likely wiped away.

All things considered, not being able to move was relatively normal in this context. Hell, Rick wished that his system was as sensitive as his alternates’, although he supposed that the drugs were taking a stronger effect on Rickley due to the recent shortening of his circulatory system. Lose a leg, gain the ability to be a lightweight, huh?

“D-dhhhon’t w-woooorry, Rickley,” he assured his partner in drawn out syllables; speech bordering on indecipherable. His eyes felt heavy in their sockets as they lazily swept over Rickleys’ face, seeing everything play out in slow motion color trails. “Y-yhhhou juss need s-some uppers in y-you, maaaan.”

Following his own advice, Rick broke away long enough to lean down over the table and inhale sharply. The sting of particulates hitting his sinuses made him flinch, pressing a palm to his forehead as if trying to push away the sensation;

And immediately thereafter realized that whatever he’d just snorted, it definitely wasn’t what he’d been expecting.

It was as if the room had been deafened for a moment in time, becoming blurry and silent. “Wuuuhh…”

When he sat up, things didn’t get much better. Rick could make out rings of white static at the edges of his vision, feel a numbness in his extremities. The noises around him were warped by distortion, like his skull had become an echo chamber. “Hhhhnn– mmm R-Rickley…?” He addressed with one eye open, the slur in his voice dangerously thick. “Can yhhhhou feel mmmy fingers? I c-can’t.”

To a mind that felt like it’d been put through a blender, it made perfect sense to slip his hand into Rickleys’ for a second opinion. Their palms clasped together, but still he couldn’t sense it. It was like his hand belonged to somebody else entirely. “I'hmmm sorry.“

Be didn’t know why he started talking. It just felt right to stumble over apologies in regards to - to everything that had gone wrong before. "I’m r-reeeal sorry, R-Rickley, y-yyyy'know?”

This wasn’t good. Maybe he should’ve thought better about mixing alcohol with codeine and weed and who even knew what else this shit was. Rick tried to run a hand through his hair, but it was still tethered to Rickleys’. “Ffffuck. I'hmmm gonna b-black out.”

With eyes barely open and consciousness relatively about him, Rick stared forward as he rode the peaking high into oblivion.

Rickley watched Plug snort that white powder from his cushion on the couch. He blinked slowly and tried to sit up a little when Plug looked back at him. He stared into blown up pupils, and made a soft noise when they clasped hands. Rickley’s grip was weak.

"Ddddon be s-sorry, Rrick… Isssss okkay…” he mumbled, squeezing his hands tightly and rubbing at his eyes with the other. He just kept staring at Plug, and he leaned against him when he started to be unresponsive. Rickley kinda wanted to stay against him forever.

The rest of the night was a blur of neon color and drinks passed around filled with unknown contents. Somewhere in the middle of it, Rickley remembered being carried into a bathroom with someone, he didn’t remember what they looked like.

The next morning was strange.  
Rickley woke up with only his shirt on, and a pain on his neck, and stomach and thighs. He groaned, trying to sit up slightly, looking down at the purpling bite marks that dotted his pale, scarred skin. He whined, letting out a sad sigh.

“Pppplu… Rrrrrrick?” he groaned, crawling his way out into the living room area. “Rrick, Rick?”

Almost everyone was cleared out, red solo cups, needles, and snuffed out cigarettes dotted the floor. No one really bothered to clean up.

He just needed to find Plug, because he couldn’t get out of there without him.

The night passed by in fragmented whirlwind sequences of scattered memory; all flashing multicolor lights broken by lighter flames associated with an array of sublime substances. Red cups, liquor lips, hot spoons, crushed pills –

Nothing thereafter came back in defined images so much as contextual feelings of lightheadedness, the sound of his own drunken voice shouting over blaring music, a one-track quest to drown the pain punctuated at the center of his chest radiating outward;

Exactly how much time had passed between the full swing of the party and ugh, wherever the fuck he was lying now was beyond Ricks’ dizzied comprehension. His brain felt like it’d been reduced to gelatin and reconstituted, torturously fried. “Nnnn…” He could only groan in discomfort - he’d opt to stay sprawled here until the world stopped spinning if not for a familiar voice pulling him from half-unconsciousness. “Wwwuh…?”

Lifting his head aided little clarity to his situation. He practically peeled his own face off the hardwood floor, bumping the back of his skull against something with a grunt of pain. “Fffuck!” How’d he- how’d he get here? No matter how hard he tried, Rick couldn’t recollect how he had managed to worm himself halfway under the coffee table, face-down on the floor in the living room.

Was that Rickleys’ voice? “H-hold on, I-I’m– Oooh, m-my head…” His vocals came out strained and dry, a likely side effect of his shouting amidst his intoxicated escapades last night. Shit, what even happened after he did those lines? Pressing a hand to his brow in defense against the bright sunlight bathing the trashed room, Plug pulled himself forward by an elbow and sat up against the couch as he struggled to piece himself together.

The first thing he noticed was the bareness of his skin. Yeah, sure, he could faintly remember taking his shirt off before doing a gnarly keg stand, but he couldn’t for the life of him figure out who’s board shorts he was wearing. Or why his knees were skinned. “Shhhhit.”

The headache was threatening to keel him over right here. He moved to raise his other hand to his face, but stopped himself short; clutched between stiff fingers were a fistful of cigarettes and joints pinched between raw knuckles. One of them had burned down to the filter and singed his hand black. Wait, why were his fists so torn up?

“W-w-what the ffff-fuck huuuappend?”

Damage assessment was difficult when you could barely see straight, much less bring about movement without ingnighting sore nerve endings. Plug was trying his damndest to brush it off in favor of finding his friend, but even he couldn’t ignore the bruises scattered over his person, nor the -

The blackened dots lining the insides of his elbows. Track marks from where needles pressed into flesh, leaving angry specks of broken skin in their wake.

Maybe that was why his bones ached.

He’d been so busy trying to collect his thoughts amidst this pounding in his brain that he hadn’t noticed Rickley until he crawled through the threshhold, knocking over solo cups in his wake. That’s - that’s right, he couldn’t walk. Not anymore.

Bleary eyes squinted over at his alternate, slack jawed and pained beneath a palm pressed to his forehead. “H-hey R-Rickley, wuh…”

The words dropped out of Ricks’ mouth, lost. There was something wrong with this picture, something with Rickley that was off even at the briefest glance–

Eyes flicked over his alternate with growing concern, summing up all visible factors of inherent wrongness. "R-Rickley-!” This wasn’t right. Where - where were the rest of Rickleys’ clothes? He still had his sweater on, but – And what was with that gaping, violet wound on his neck?

He had a bad feeling about this.

“W-what h-h-happened to you?!”

It took a while for him to actually focus on Rick. He heard his hushed curses and movements, but he was too dizzy to look around too quickly. When he finally found Plug in his line of sight, he stopped crawling and sat still.

He was really tired. He just wanted Plug to hold him right now– he felt strange and scared and he needed to feel loved. He rubbed a hand at the large bite mark on his neck, wincing absentmindedly.

"Rick…” he mumbled, looking up at him with faded blues dotted with a tiredness that went deep. He was about to crawl to him, holding his shoulders and whisper that he wanted that kiss, the one that was in his dreams. The one that did not stop at the line of fabric by his neck.

But then Plug looked so concerned, and he pulled his hand off the bite to look at it. It was a bit bloodied, but not too bad. He just wiped his hand on a bare leg, sighing.

“I d-dont remember m-much, but I th-think I said y-yes… It’s o-okay..” he mumbled, looking over to the side. Rickley always seemed to ruin everything.

“I d-dont remember what th-they looked like but I w-was really high, I think s-someone gave me ecstasy? Th-they bit me a lot, but I was o-okay with it… I think…”

Was… was that really the explanation for Rickleys’ condition? It was just because if a - a wild night of partying that lead to a fling with an unmemorable somebody that just… got a little rough?

"Oh.”

Oh.

It wasn’t… too hard to believe, Rick supposed. He’d done things like that before, back when he was coping with – with –

With serious shit. He could get it. But the story was vague at best, lacking confidence and truthfulness at worst, and - and he couldn’t suppress this weird feeling brewing in his gut. The healthy doubt inspired by those seeping holes in the side of Rickleys’ delicate neck. The exhaustion in his eyes. The harsh bruises on his legs.

The memory hopelessly stuck inside his minds’ eye recalling the way that Rickley couldn’t even stand him touching, brushing fingertips and lips against warm body in the front seat of a truck –

Rick turned his head away, selecting a half-burned cigarette from his fingers to pinch between his dry lips. Flicking a near-dead lighter he found next to him until it produced flame, staring at it in thought. Yeah. Maybe that had been different.

Or - or maybe Rickley had been too out of it to judge what really happened. Rick could sure as hell relate. There wasn’t a single semblance of sense involved with last nights’ events. For all he knew, Rickley could’ve been- could’ve been–

“Jeez-us, R-Rickley…” He released a smokey groan of a sigh as he clutched the side of his head, flicking ash off of his cigarette. “Do y-you think, or - or do you know?” He was trying not to let his eyes linger worriedly on the hem of his alternates’ sweater, where it stopped only a few inches down his marred thighs. “H-how much did you- did y-you take?”

Why the fuck had he dragged Rickley into this, anyway? He should’ve known better. Should’ve stuck to his side all night, even in an incredible stupor.

That was what he was supposed to do: look out for Rickley. Keep him out of harms way. Keep it just Rick and Rickley, watching each others’ backs.

It wouldn’t be the first failure to do so, Rick bitterly recollected. Not by far.

Reaching out to pick up a stray cup still half-full of liquor, Rick shakily raised it to his lips and took desperate sips of stinging alcohol until it was empty. Fuck, he hated himself.

He dropped it nonchalantly before staring at his hands in bewilderment, turning them over to look at the scrapes on his palms. They stung dully with movement, whispered of smoke dancing in his line of vision. “H-how much did I take?”

This was a shit way to come to. All he wanted was to lie back down, but Rick knew it wouldn’t make this guiltiness ebb away.

“W-where’s your pants?” That was a good place to start. Get Rickley decent again. But the question only opened up more areas of inquiry; He tugged at his mysterious grey swim shorts, scrunching up his face in mild distaste. “W-where are mine?”

Oh, man. What did they get into last night? “Sh-shit, Rickley. I-I gotta - gotta get you up.” Off the dirty floor covered in drug residue and spilled alcohol and god knows what else.

If only he could get his legs to cooperate instead of trembling and sending shooting pain up his sides every time he shifted position. “Ooooh, I-I feel like - like shiiiiit.”

Did he /know/ if he said yes? Of course he didn’t. They both knew what actually happened, but Rickley didn’t want to admit it. He frowned and rubbed at his eyes, trying to push back the tears that welled in sad blue eyes.

As Plug kept questioning the events of the night and the startling effects, Rickley just sat in some sort of daze, tired of pretending like everything was okay, because it just, /wasn’t/.

And now he knew Rick was going to be even more standoffish because of what had happened. He hated himself, everything about him, why did that /happen/?

He started to cry, scrunching up his face like a child being reprimanded. He didn’t mean to upset Plug, he didn’t mean to disappoint him in anyway but it felt like he did. He couldn’t recognize this clenching feeling in his heart and he hated it. He wondered if Plug felt it, too.

"Rick, please, p-please come here..” he said softly, reaching a weak hand towards him. “I’m s-sorry, please…”

So tired, so scared. He needed Rick. He needed to be held. He craved the affection. He couldn’t breathe without him.

The early morning ambiance of offshore waves and speaker-deadened ringing ears was broken by… by this strange noise. It sounded sharp like glass breaking, a choked off, piercing whine;

As he wearily drew his heavy head up out of his aching hands, the realization suddenly dawned on Rick that it was- it was coming from Rickley. The man was outstretching an arm toward him, features all bunched together in distress–

Rickley was beginning to cry.

The weakest of sounds arising out of the thin frame of his companion - his friend, his everything - brought this squeezing sensation to the center of his chest. A tautness in his ribs that made his breath seize up in his throat and his voice tremble.

The cigarette fell from limp fingers to the carpet. “R-R-Rickley…?”

The tears ran thick over gaunt cheeks, pooling in eyes that were already the shade of cool water. He… hadn’t seen him this upset since the road.

And it was his fault when it came down to it, wasn’t it? This could’ve all been so easily prevented, but he just had to go shoot up and snort shit and drink himself under the table when he should’ve been - should’ve been more careful, more watchful.

The instinct in Ricks’ gut forged by communal imprisonment told him to close the short distance, pull his alternate against him protectively; but he hesitated. Flicking bloodshot eyes down at the hand nervously, thinking twice. "R-Rickley, I-I’m, uh…”

What if he flipped out? What if physical touch was the last thing he needed right now? Maybe he’d just make everything substantially worse instead of better. Again.

But it wasn’t like he could just leave Rickley there. There was no way for him to get up on his own without that leg. He just wasn’t strong enough. Every time he swiped at his wet eyes or those shoulders shook with wracking sobs, the sensation of breathlessness only became more severe.

So Rick did the only thing he could think of: he took Rickleys’ arm and tossed it over his shoulder to create an anchor point to lift him off the floor, and he pretended that everything was alright.

“H-hey, heeeey,” he cooed in soothing tones, briefly struggling to lift the featherweight man to his footing. He wondered if the shudder in his muscles could be felt. “It’s- uh, it’s gonna be f-fiiiine, Rickley!” He was overcompensating, trying too hard with too little confidence. Fuck.

“Here- L-lets just - just sit on the couch a-and–” They both lowered to rest upon the grimy seats, much to the relief of Ricks’ own shaky legs. “And w-we’ll smoke this blunt a-aaaand w-we’ll figure it aaaall out and y-you’ll be okay.” He forced a lopsided smile, some half assed attempt at comfort that he knew wasn’t convincing. “Okay?”

Rickley watched the cigarette fall, saw the battle that went on behind Plug’s eyes. Somehow, this was worse than the grimy floors and pitch black rooms of solitary confinement. At least then, Rick would hold his hand.

He said please. He said /please/ but Rickley knew that wouldn’t have worked because he said please to Gamma too, and it didn’t work, either. He knew they were different but they were all Ricks, weren’t they? Just Ricks.

When Plug lifted him he just did his best to move with him to the couch. Why did Rickley ruin everything?  
When Rick spoke it felt like slow motion, like he was moving in jello. He couldn’t hear a word that he said but he didn’t even care anymore. Nothing mattered.

Nothing was going to be okay.

The stressed question that Plug asked at the end of his sentence made him look up at him with tired, lifeless blue eyes and shake his head slowly. "Nothing’s ever gonna be okay again. I-Its not fair…”

Rickley felt the hot tears dripping down his face again, unrelenting. He turned his body to press both hands gently on Rick’s shoulders and then he did what he’d done in his dreams.

He kissed Plug.

It was hungry, needy, filled with something that was so damn close to /love/.  
He kissed wanted someone to love him again. He wanted to feel /wanted/.

Every movement on Plug’s lips made old scars open and pour out but not like in the truck, the time he couldn’t remember. Not like that. He could feel his body draining of stress with each ‘smeck’ of the lips, an unbridled devotion taking its place. Sure, the wounds were still there. They would never heal completely and Rickley still had those flashing images but nothing competed with how fucking happy he felt, kissing Rick in this moment.

It just felt /right/.

Nothing’s ever gonna be okay again.

There it was: the devastating, undeniable truth. Even though they’d made it this far, out of the arguably worst events of their lives and into bright days at the warm beach, it… It didn’t change shit.

They were still the same broken, fucked up Ricks as before. This time around, they just didn’t have an excuse to be what they were. "R-Rickley, hey, I-I’m sor…”

The hands suddenly clasping his bare shoulders were cold yet firm, bony fingers curling gently to secure their place. The closeness of their bodies took the words right out of his mouth, leaving Rick staring slack-jawed into his alternates’ swimming eyes.

“Ri– mmh!”

The lips pressed firm against his own were as soft and pliable as silk, warm and faintly tasting of medicinal cherries blended with alcohol, and… And something undeniably Rickley. They were everything he remembered and more.

The mind went quiet and the body took over. Despite any alternative reasoning that had been present moments earlier, Rick found himself reciprocating the movements. Eyes dreamily drifted half-closed as he tilted his head delicately to the side, completely relinquishing control to Rickley with a breathy shudder that ran through his bones when they briefly parted; weakened by affection to the point of giving in.

He wanted this. He wanted it so bad.

The tears clinging to Rickleys’ face dampened his own cheeks, salty to the taste. He let himself be guided with vigor, the energy behind passionate lips subduing him to its’ pull; In and out like the tides.

“Haaah~” He moaned out quietly, brow furrowing over relaxed features. This felt incredible, like they belonged to two pieces of one whole. It felt good. This was- this was everything he craved, this completed him;

But it wasn’t right.

There was no way he could push down the undeniable fact that Rickley had been though something awful last night - that much was evident by the gruesome marks littering his form. He must be feeling unstable, not in his right mind.

That was why he kissed him. That was why this was happening at all.

And then what? Would Rickley lapse into a mindstate gone blind, where he thought he was what hurt him? The thing that bit him like that? Wherein he’d be convinced that escape by any means necessary was better than being here?

The anxiety was making Ricks’ heart race, his lips tremble under the kisses. Would Rickley fear him again? Would he hurt himself, or worse, try to–

“S-stop!”

The note of subliminal panic in Ricks’ voice reflected the fearful shimmer in his eyes as he pulled away, turning his head to the side. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, spent from the effort behind the kisses - or maybe he’d lost it when he started thinking about how close he was brushing with potential disaster.

He raised a hand to his forehead, wiping away sweat as he averted his eyes almost shamefully. “Just. Just stop. I-I…”

He didn’t know how to do this. It felt like two pieces of his being were being pulled apart, an internal battle between flimsy feelings and reliable thought. He just couldn’t tell what was okay anymore, and it showed in his confused, garbled speech. “I’m… Y-you– I mean, w-we, uh…!”

When Rick kissed him back, his heart thumped loudly as if it were going to break out of his chest. He was so tired of not being close to Plug, and now he was kissing him back so lovingly he didn’t know what to do. He was so happy.

And then it ended way too soon.  
The resounding ‘stop!’ that Rick yelled out struck him hard and he stopped immediately, moving away. He didn’t want to hurt Rick. He just thought because he kissed him back, it was okay. That maybe they were meant to be like this.

But of course not, of course not! No one is capable of loving him. He’s too far broken to be loved. He was confused by Rick’s words, his heart constricting in his chest and leaving him breathless.

"I’m s-s-sorry… I th-thought you l-liked it, b-b-because you kissed m-me back… I d-didnt mean t-to h-hhhurt you…” Rickley said in a soft, timid voice. “B-but wh-whenever I look at y-y-you my heart f-feels right a-and I f-feel like I need to k-kiss you, or h-hug you. I know, kn-know I shouldn’t f-feel that way… It’s w-weird isn’t it? I d-dont know R-Rick but e-everything hurts without you. P-please..”

Rickley was so torn. “But I g-get it, I get it if th-this is weird, and you o-only want to be friends… We don’t h-have to be friends either… Y-you don’t have to stick with me.. It’s o-okay..”

With every meek word tumbling out of Rickley, the greater the strain became on something inside of his chest. It felt like he’d been run right through with a sharp object, leaving nothing but pain in its’ wake.

“Y-you didn’t hurt – I-I mean, that w-was…”

What the fuck was he supposed to say? He… he had kissed him back. And with enough passion behind it to bring color to his cheeks, a shade of pink that he tried to hide by rubbing at his brow.

The feelings that Rick had developed for Rickley over what felt like ages in that cagey prison were still alive, bubbling underneath a surface of projected guardedness. It wasn’t deniable.

Chewing on his bottom lip, he could swear he could still taste Rickley. Sweet and salty and perfect.

He could barely believe that someone could feel so strongly for him when he was - he was such shit but he… he could relate. Every time he caught his alternate in the right lighting, when he held him close to carry him, it just felt… Different. The briefest moment of closeness was enough to make his pulse pick up and his mind wander and his eyes go soft.

But he’d fucked it up.

The remnants of Rickleys’ leg were a stark reminder of why he couldn’t afford to repeat that kind of mistake.

Pressing a palm into one black-undershadowed eye, Rick struggled to express something, anything other than agony. “It’s n-not you, R-Rickley, it’s…” He trailed off, staring down at his hand, subconsciously curled into a fist around the fabric of his shorts. “I-it’s me.”

Goddamn, did he want Rickley. But past experiences had swiftly and unforgivingly taught how giving into emotions would only do more harm than good.

Maybe he was just a shit person, and that’s why nothing ever worked out. Maybe everything he loved was destined to turn into aching loss.

It’d taken a while for him to recognize the patterns, but now they were becoming obvious. If he dared to let himself get truly invested, it’d just - it’d just fall apart and he’d be alone again.

Maybe forever.

“Hah. Aha ha!” The laughter that made his shoulders bounce sounded definitively forced, the smile breaking his concerned expression bordering on a grimace of pain. Almost appearing like he was closer to being visibly upset rather than in the mood for humor.

“W-w-why /wouldn’t/ w-w-we be /friends/?” Please don’t leave me. “It’s- it’s Rick a-aaand, and R-Rickley.” Oh god, please don’t leave me. “R-right? A-aaa hundred years?“

The corners of his mouth twitched, like he was having trouble maintaining the smile under stress. The thoughts clouding his brain were screaming, every little thing he’d ever done wrong for Rickley coming back in a surge of guilt and maddening detail.

The blood. The wounds. The not enough. “Hah…”

Slumping back into the couch cushions, Rick blinked down at the joint still clutched between his fingers, where the knuckles were too swollen to allow it to drop so easily. Maybe it was time to start erasing those thoughts, focus on something else. “C-c'mon, Rickley. L-lets just - just get f-fffucking high, th-the two of us b-b-buddies.”

He could hear it in his own voice: the crack as he poorly attempted to gloss over the rawness of Rickleys’ apologies, the displaced lightheartedness that warped the conversations’ tone. “W-w-we’re f-fine.” He wondered who he was trying to convince as he flicked the lighter, trying to coax out a flame with shaking hands. “We’re g-gonna be f-f-fine.”

Rickley knew better. He’d seen this before, this laughing, fake happiness to mask the brutal pain. He must have really hurt Rick, and now he felt like absolute shit. He never meant to be /that/ person.

His neck hurt.  
One hundred years, Rickley thought, would be the death of them. If they couldn’t even talk to each other. He felt he was missing something and he didn’t know what. It hurt. Plug knew something he didn’t.

As he waited for the man next to him to spark a flame, he went to stand up only to painfully remind himself that he was crippled. He was literally trapped next to Plug now, trapped into faking this happiness.

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

So Rickley turned his head to the table next to the couch, eyeing an unfinished double stacked cup filled with a familiar purple substance that tasted like damn liquid gold to Rickley.

He tilted the cup to bring the liquid to his lips, swallowing it down with a vigor to just stop this clenching feeling in his heart. Forget. Maybe that’s just what he’d have to do.

When he finished the cup he let out a long sigh, mind already swirling as he reached over for another cup, this one now filled with a familiar stinging alcohol that went down smooth and easy. If Rick wanted to get high, he’d get high.

Everything hurt.

Even the sweet taste of harsh smoke could quite alleviate this sinking feeling burrowing into his stomach, the suffocating anxious thoughts consuming him; The striking reality of brushing lips with something he couldn’t have.

The constantly harboured fear of destroying what little he had left.

And it stung like salt rubbed into broken skin. It burned his insides like shots of alcohol, but Rick couldn’t let himself show it. Not when he could read Rickleys’ downtrodden demeanor without even looking over at him, catching lowly cast eyes and weak attempts at balance from peripheral view.

They were shit out of luck, but it didn’t even matter. The clenching in Ricks’ chest, the singing flames of regret from within could so easily be deadened with a little help from his good friends jack daniels and captain morgan, poured into nondescript cups; guzzled down with abandon as he struggled to find a comfort while he and Rickley sat on this couch.

This shitty piece of furniture centered in the middle of this wrecked room, in this beach house with nobody else in it, lost in this off-brand earth dimension. Side by side.

Not daring to touch too long, or acknowledge the obvious.

At least he hadn’t been the only one to display enthusiasm in favor of getting wasted straight out of the hangover. It was only appropriate, a given; a desperate clutch at self soothing, a saddened celebration.

They’d come so far, but for what?

Watching smoke roll out of his mouth and drift in a white cloud towards the roof, Rick pinched the blunt between his fingers and tapped the back of Rickleys’ hand with his own. He briefly thought about how perfectly those palms fit into his, like they were built to match each other. Scars and all.

“I-it’s not so- so bad out here, R-Rickley, huh?” Change the subject. Do anything. “At least w-we get to - to be by the sea, r-r-right?“

Another generous gulp from his mixed liquors helped deaden those regretful thoughts. It almost helped him forget about the could’ve been. “T-tell you wuh. I-I’m gonna go- go find y-you pants –” He stood up, brushing himself off pointlessly, “A-and we’ll go down to the - to the - to the beach, Rickley. M-maybe figure out w-where the hell everybody w-went.”

Rickley watched him with tired blue eyes, staring mindlessly at him as if Plug were the only thing that was concrete in his life. Well, it used to be that way. But with the way he was acting, he didn’t know anymore.

Rickley was grabbing for any kind of alcohol he could get in his vicinity. Half finished cups and abandoned pills made their way to kiss lips and slid down his dry throat. He couldn’t see straight.

He jumped slightly at the tap on his hand and swung his head over to look at him. He just blinked slowly, body trembling as he searched for words.  
“I w-want to g-go to the w-water,” he whispered out, eyes far away and lidded. He was out of it already, the pain quelled by the drugs. It was okay.

“I want to s-stay here..” he mumbled, looking around. “I-If no one i-is here, I want th-this to be our h-house.. I l-like the beach..” he was being borderline childish, speech slow and sluggish as he looked down, avoiding Rick’s eyes.

Despite the compiled complications of everything: the denial of self and feeling, the tautness residing in his chest when they talked as if he and Rickley were genuinely doing fine–

Plug could still manage to draw up just enough strength to send his intoxicated partner a weak smile of reassurance. A flash of teeth to break the misery sinking into their bones.

“Y-yeah, R-Rrrrickley.” He puffed on the blunt, thankful for the way the curling smoke partially obscured the look Rickley had on his face from his peripheral vision. It was too sad to gaze at head-on without flinching, like staring into the sun. “W-we - we’re gonna go down to th-the beach a-aaand have a-a great time.”

Maybe that would help uplift his companions’ low spirits, to go get high while they sat by the waves. “Y-yeah, Rickley, w-we can just - just come back h-here, buddy.” Regardless of whos house it really was, they’d return. It wasn’t as if they had any other options when it came to shelter, anyway; the lack of portal gun kept them more or less stranded.

Electing to ignore the way that Rickley ingested anything within arms reach, Rick started toward the back of the house. Movement would keep his mind busy, away from painful thoughts. “H-hah, I-I-I’ll be right back, dawg – D-don’t even trip.”

Turning to head down the short hallway toward the bathroom granted enough of a break out of sight for Plug to allow his shoulders to slump, his strained uplifted expression to lapse; a sigh to slip out from between kiss-reddened lips as he gingerly brushed fingertips across them. Why did he feel so… so torn?

He felt heavy inside. Like his organs were lined with lead and he could hardly bear to sustain the weight.

Damn it. Why didn’t anything ever go right?

The rest of the beach house was as much of a wreck as the front room. Rick dragged a hand along the wall absentmindedly, over punched holes and salt-warped beams. The floor was littered with discarded trash that he kicked away with each step, the open bedroom was a mess of strewn covers and white curtains blowing in the wind, the kitchenette ripped apart at the hinges;

And then there was the bathroom.

Standing in the doorway looking in, Rick could only silently question at just how there was this much blood on the white tile floor. Smeared and smudged and puddled in sickening hues of red, telling a story that made him nauseous. Was that… that all from Rickley?

The frown embedding itself deeper twitched as Rick brought a hand up to rub at his sore head. It made him dizzy, all of this regret mixed with equal parts rage. Why hadn’t he been there? Why couldn’t he just do one thing positive for Rickley?

He… he didn’t deserve that kiss.

The orange pill bottle on the countertop begged for his attention, calling out with promises of easing the problems plaguing his psyche. So he shook out a generous handful of painkillers and downed them like candy, holding out hope that it would be enough to kill the guilt.

With a degree of hesitation, Rick managed to tear himself away from the scene long enough to locate Rickleys’ pants balled in the corner, bringing them back to the front room in a couple of steps. “H-here, R-Rickley. I uh… f-found these f-for you, see?“ Holding them up served to show that they were full of holes in the legs, ripped in patterns that suggested they’d fallen victim to sharp objects; basically reducing the article to grungey shorts. “Th-they’re cool n-now.”

Waiting for his companion to wriggle into his clothes, Rick squinted as he scanned the room over once more. The bottle of hennessey on the table screamed to him to lift it to his lips, so he squeezed his eyes shut and chugged until he ran out of breath to hold.

“Ahh…” The sensation of his stomach slowly churning into a pit of intoxicants was a welcome feeling, burning from within. Plug drew the back of a hand sloppily over his chin, wiping away stray drops of alcohol before addressing Rickley with a slur. “Y-yhhhou- you ready?”

It was swiftly becoming secondhand instinct to help Rickley along. It wasn’t as if his alter ego could manage it by himself anymore. The two of them had to move in tandem if Rickley was to travel at all.

He took up the same familiar handholds and support points; an arm wrapped around the back of thin shoulders while the other manipulated one of Rickleys’ over the back of his neck, holding a wrist to keep the smaller man from slipping. Rick fought to keep his eyes low; he knew that if he made direct sight contact, Rickley might catch sight of the peculiar ache housed just behind the surface. “IIIII g-gotcha, R-Rickley. Let’s - letsssgo swim.”

They’d feel better once ther got to the water, Rick told himself. It’d be just him and Rickley and this bottle of liquor clutched in his hand, resting against his partners’ ribs. There was something soothing about the cadence of moving water, the foamy laps at seashore; about having nobody else around. A real slice of paradise.

Stepping out of the doorway into the warmpth of sunlight, a peculiar off sensation struck the human senses; a gut instinct that something was amiss. Rick could swear on a prickling of feeble memory at the back of his mind prompting him to look ahead–

Eyes drew up towards a dark figure contrasted against the white sands. Lying motionless, face down in front of the houses’ steps, was some kind of creature that appeared to have been beaten in with a blunt object. The blood pooled around its’ dented head had long ago sunk into the pores of sand, its’ intimidating teeth digging into the soft earth, jaw splayed wide open;

And it all came together. Clicked, just like that.

The gnarly marks bitten onto Rickleys’ body, the flesh slicked off of his own knuckles indicative of a fight, the absolute absence of other partygoers.

“Oh, shiiiit, *I* d-did that.”

Adjusting his grip on Rickley while he wobbled unsteadily on his feet, Plugs'brow furrowed as faint recollections came back to him; the feeling of driving knuckles into alien flesh, the malice that guided his hand. The nature of how things had gone down were starting to correlate, paint a picture where the blackout obscured details.

“Hah… Th-that’s the - the one, huh?” The one that had hurt Rickley. Maybe he had done something, after all; Not that it counted, considering that the beat down had come too late to spare Rickley harm. "W-what a-aaaa piece of shit.”

That’d been what cleared everyone out. After slaughtering someone on the front porch, there was no way that anyone was coming back, and with all the drugs present - cops didn’t get called, either. “L-looks like the house is- is ours after a-all, R-Rickley.”

The world swirled around Rickley, his body rocking back and forth slightly along with the feeling of floating. Though at the same time, he felt like a dead weight. He head was too fuzzy to make sense of anything, though. Plug’s voice sounded echoey and hollow in his ears, and his tired seafood eyes stared up at him as he spoke. He smiled brokenly at Rick, the words going right through him as he couldn’t hear a thing, white noise getting louder in his damaged head.

When Rick went to find his pants, Rickley turned to the side and pressed a hand against his wound again, the slick feeling of warm blood making his head spin even faster. He exhaled a soft sigh and stared up at the ceiling. His heart ached with an emptiness that felt malicious and destructive, slowly picking away at the shell of his hollow heart and hurting, hurting, /hurting/.

The little cry Rickley let out went unheard as he drowned it out with another cup of liquor, the bitter, burning liquid searing a path down his raw throat. When he finished the drink, Plug was back, and he was suddenly pulling was was left of his slacks on. Rick was helping him up, and Rickley was struggling. He held onto his counterpart tightly, eyes squeezing shut tightly as he ignored the sharp pain as he moved his arm. He needed to get to the water, like Rick said.

Slow and careful, they exited the beach house and came across the corpse, which made Rickley’s body go tense at the sight. He clutched onto Rick, clumsy fingers digging into pale skin. He whipped his head around to look away, dizziness overcoming him. "R-Rick, I d-don’t w-want t-t-t-to look–”

The sick feeling increased with each passing second and he felt as if he were fading away. He let out a terrified noise that did not reach his ears as he felt himself succumb to the thick, suffocating ebony black.

When he awoke, the darkness did not leave. He couldn’t see anything, and his body was lying in shallow, cold water. He moved slightly, hands moving to the walls of the chamber and finally finding something. Skin. His hands moved to the body’s wrists, finding the gnarled rope scars. He let out a noise of relief followed by panic, his body huddling up against Plug’s in fear.

Another thing he noticed was that he was not missing his leg.  
In a normal situation, he’d be overjoyed.  
But this was not a normal situation.

He shook Plug, trying to wake him up as sobs wracked his naked body. He still couldn’t see anything in the pitch black chamber, longing for some kind of reassurance that his partner was still alive.

“Rick, wh-where a-are w-wwe? I’m s-s-scared, I’m s-scared R-Rick,” he whispered in desperation, his bony hands curling into Rick’s hair. “P-Please a-answer me…”

The last thing that Plug could recall in full clarity was his counterparts’ spindley fingers digging into his shoulder desperately, uttering a stutter laced with fright. “H-hey, Rickley, i-its okay,” he started a worried reassurance. "H-he’s dead, s-see? It’s fine, y-you’re–”

And then the stability of the environment surrounding them was thrown off kilter, like somebody purposefully spun the model globe they stood upon. The innate sense of balance naturally occurring in the inner ear was no longer; Replaced by a deafening ringing, a blindness that rendered the wooden beams and sparkling sands below his feet into black and white static. Jumping and warping and out of place.

There must be something wrong with his system, having overtaxed it partying. Of course he must’ve taken too many pills at once, compiling it with entirely too much liquor. Shit.

He could feel the weight of the bottle slipping out of his hand and dully crashing to the porch, recall how Rickleys’ body dragged his strengthless form down doubletime as his knees buckled. A lurch forward was sure to send the pair tumbling over the front steps and on a direct collision course with the beach;

Everything went dark. Darker than anything. Pitch black, a permeating inkiness relative to dark matter, the most nether reaches of space: cold and empty and wet.

Faint thoughts brushed against the will to continue comfortably lying here forever, unmoving, floating in nothingness. It felt as if he dwelled between realms of conciousness and a deep, consuming sleep. Drifting off gradually, mind slowed by fuzzy numbness…

Until the sensation of something warm and different and alive broke the peace. Grasping hands jerked him out of trancelike stillness, half-lidded eyes snapping wide open as he became all at once aware of the freezing temperatures prickling at every nerve ending. He reactionarily drew in a harsh gasp of air, sucking inwards sharply as every muscle in his barren body tensed at once against a wave of excruciating chill.

“Hhh-haaah–!”

The resistance met with his movements told Rick that he was lying in water, soaked to the bone. He could feel droplets beading up and rolling over goosefleshed skin, while teeth chattered in defense against the offensive cold. “Hhh-hhh-hhhh–”

The only source of moderate warmth radiated from a body before him, frail fingers clasping at his gnarled wrists and clumps of wet hair. He was drawn to it like a moth to flame, pulling himself close with a desperate clutch onto a slim shoulder and jutting ribs. It was Rickley. He’d know the dimensions of that body, the sound of fearful whines anywhere. “Ssssso c-c-cold–!”

This… couldn’t be real. It was like a nightmare scape, a fictitious reality from a bad dream. But it felt so vivid, so mind numbingly frozen, and the subtle heat wafting off the familiar body clinging to his wrists and his hair was so visceral.

“R-rrrickley?” His voice carried no power as he called out weakly. It was as if Plugs’ vocal chords were scratchy from lack of use, cracking over a note of alarm. “Rrrrrhhh…”

He could barely talk, groggy and stiff to the core of his being. Wake up. Wake up.

“Oh g-g-god, s-s-so c-c-cold,” he managed amidst wracking shivers that turned his brain slow and his words jumbled to match. Why wasn’t he wearing more clothes in this place? The only thing he could think of to do was press his forehead to the side of Rickleys’ neck, seeking refuge from the icy depths, the strangeness of shadows moving outside their bubble emcasement. “I-I just w-wanna g-go b-back to s-s-sleep…”

In his panic, Rickley’s body didn’t realize how suffocatingly /freezing/ he was. It jolted him in surprise when he hear Plug’s teeth chatter and his body began to tremble violently, his chest seizing up and constricting his breathing. Oh God, what the /fuck/.

Plug’s vague warmth was the only comfort. Rickley’s mop of wet blue hair kept him shivering no matter the amount of body heat they shared. He could feel the other man pressed close to him, and he pressed even closer. It didn’t matter anymore that they were naked, it didn’t matter about the past, it just mattered about staying close. Staying together.

"Wh-where, wh-wh-where, a-are we, are we a-awake? Are we a-a-asleep?” he didn’t know what was true, cold tears slipping down his numb cheeks as shaking fingers struggled to find purchase on Plug’s body. “R-Rick, m-my l-leg,” he sobbed, “Wh-whats h-h-happening?”

He was so cold and terrified and his breathing increased considerably. As usual, he was not the one to keep it together. But of Rick couldn’t either, Rickley didn’t really mind. He just wanted to be close to him. The only tangible thing in this fucked up fake world. Or real. He didn’t know.

“I’m s-s-so sc-scared, I w-want to g-go back to the b-b-beach, I w-want, I w-want to b-be warm…” he wept. His small frame was slick with cold water as he attempted to get even closer, the need to feel comfort too strong for any inhibitions.

This had to be the worst kind of bizarrely realistic, abstract dream to get stuck in. It was as if he’d been furled up for too long and stuffed into an icebox adjacently to Rickley, the two of them barely able to fend off biting cold and, and - and hopelessly wrapped in wires.

He could barely feel them through the numbness in his extremities: nodes on his temples separating the skin of his forehead from the shoulder he leaned on, clamps attached firmly to several curling and uncurling fingers. The wandering hands that gripped desperately onto Rickley could make out bumps placed evenly along the others’ spine leading out into plastic-cased tendrils. His natural inclination to machinery made him faintly wonder what kept them so well embedded.

Every time he tried to will himself awake, he couldn’t. The space they were trapped, ohgodtrapped within only seemed to grow more confined, the terror in his alternates’ voice more piercing, the chill encroaching deeper into his rattling bones.

He wasn’t asleep.

The sensation of heaving skin pressing closer against skin, the slim fingers gripping his wet locks and pressing into his scalp was too real. This… couldn’t just be within his subconsciousness.

Bewilderment ebbed into his voice as the realizations struck him, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He swore he could hear every thump-thump of his own heart, every hitch in Rickleys’ breath. "I-I-I d-d-don’t nnn- know,” came the admission aloud, voice muffled by his face being pressed flush to Rickleys’ collarbone. He didn’t know what dimension they were in or what was happening. He only knew that he was cold and afraid and that he could feel two legs intertwining with his… His only leg.

“M-m-maybe we’re d-d-dead.”

The thought should’ve inspired some kind of self mourning, a degree of troubledness or anxiety, but Rick was too lulled by the chill in his brain to react. No matter what he did, Rick couldn’t seem to shake this intense oncoming sleepiness that urged him to close his eyes and lie still in the shallow, still water. “I-I’m s-s-so tired,” he quietly whispered against Rickleys’ neck. His blues were only halfway missed and heavy, grip becoming less firm as the seconds slipped by, breathing slowing. Huff. Huff. “I-I c-c-can s-sssee my b-breath…”

Rickley’s crying subsided as his mind became foggy and numb, his body trembling against Plug. His fingers tried to grip harder but could not, leaving him to slowly slip back into the shallow water as the strength left his body.

"Wh-why is b-being d-dead so.. Ccc-cold..?” he sobbed, his terrified blues staring over at Rick. He could feel himself slipping away as well, fingers ceasing to move as they were entangled in wires. His eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep once more.

Or did he wake up?

He was collapsed on the beach, sand stinging his eyes and laying nearly on top of Plug. There was a deep chill that still ran through his bones that kept the fear present and real. Rickley shook Plug desperately. He wanted to be held. He was so scared.

They were not even on the porch where they had passed out. They were near the water, about 100 feet away. The body that had been lying in front of the house was gone. No sign of struggle or even blood. It was like a glitch in a video game.

But his leg was gone again.

“Rr-Rrrick, Riiiiiiiiiickkk… Hhhh.. No… I d-dont want to ggggo back to ssleep…” why was he so tired? Everything hurt. He couldn’t fall asleep again. He didn’t want to be in that dark room.

“I’m sc-sccaaared…” he sobbed like a child, tugging on Plug’s hand and moving to lay his head on his chest.

Attempts to rouse Plug from his state of exhaustion proved ultimately futile. It was as hopeless as fighting a rip current, counterproductive at best; Expending energy to fight the oncoming urge to sleep, go back to sleep only served to tire him faster. Rendered completely unable to wrest himself away from slowly slipping unconscious, he gave in.

The trembling, frailer than memory served limbs entwined in restrictive threading gradually began to lapse in capability to function, failing to keep a steady hold on his partner. “Rrrr- rih…”

His tongue wouldn’t cooperate. He couldn’t even manage a name - not even one known by heart.

The encumbering heaviness made itself known as taut muscles loosened, finger pads lost traction; shivering ceasing as arms once pressed flush to Rickleys’ torso fell into the water.

The stiller he became, the more he seemed to naturally float in the salt water. At peace.

Limp. Face dipping halfway under the shallow surface tension. Limper.

If being dead was cold, being alive was even colder.

The chill rooted deep in his body wasn’t broken by the bright light penetrating his eyelids, blinding even through a reddish haze of skin and blood vessels. It was enough to inspire Rick to involuntarily flinch, bunching his brow together over squeezed-shut eyes as he feebly fended off rays of sun with a raised hand. “Uuugh…”

His temples were absolutely pounding, a throbbing migraine blossoming right between the eyes. His head lie in the soft sands, body likewise cradled awkwardly by the dips and curves in the cool earth. Where… was he?

It was unclear what pulled him out of slumber first: the adamant shaking from thin hands, the offending sun overhead that didn’t help to warm his bones, or the sound of Rickleys’ shaking voice. He could hear the fear through the muffled ringing in his ears, punctuating over seagull calls and crashing waves. “R-Rickley? C-calm down, Rickley.“

It came as second nature to comfort his counterpart without so much as an idea pertaining to any /actual/ self awareness - a momento from their past. He could feel the dryness to his lips when he pursed them to make a soothing sound. “Shh, shhhh.”

The presence of a head coming to rest against his sternum, quaking against his bare skin as he let out heart wrenching sobs inclined a dazed Rick to raise a hand, hovering over soft hair hesitantly; Before he thought twice. He barely brushed against the locks with tentative precaution, trying not to make it worse. Don’t make it worse. It was hard enough already to listen to. “Hey, shhh, stuh-stoppit. R-Rickley, what’s-?”

Oh. Propping himself up wearily on one elbow and cracking open an eye revealed that they weren’t… weren’t anywhere near where he remembered. Not within the walls of the beach house, not inside the fading memories of a darkness that left vague feelings of dread in his core; They’d made it from the threshold of the porch steps all the way down to the border of wet sand, adjacent to the waters’ edge.

“H-how long wuh- wuzz I out fer?” He sloppily questioned, slurred speech complimenting the peculiar fuzziness in his head that left him disoriented and confused. “I had th-the craziest dream…”

Squinting in the punishing light, the outstanding differences in surrounding environment slowly started to become apparent. A quick glance at the distance from the beach house told him that he must’ve blacked out awake and - and stumbled all the way down. Right? That’s why he… He couldn’t for the life of him recall how they’d gotten here. Shit, he really shouldn’t have crossed all those painkillers.

Something else was just… off. Amiss with the picture. “W-where’s the…?” He couldn’t find the right words, at a loss for how to express that he swore there’d been blood everywhere in front of the house. Did it get moved? "How d-did we-?” Was it ever there at all?

The wonders of drug associated memory loss should be a familiar concept to him by now, but this one really stumped him. If he couldn’t recall that, who even knew what he’d gotten into before eventually passing out here? Knowing himself, he’d probably dragged Rickley along for the ride and just - just dropped him right on the beach when he finally collapsed.

“Oh j-jeez, Rickley - w-whuh happened?” When he moved to sit up, Rick could feel his tendons and ligaments strain and shake like sail tethers in the wind. God, it was so fucking cold out here. The sea breeze blowing in was frigid. “S-s-so cold.”

Hadn’t he just been saying that?

A palm pressed into his eye socket, trying to somehow forcefully clear his head. His mind was a mess. He needed a cigarette and a shirt and for the man against his side to stop making noises that gave him stabbing aches between his fourth and fifth rib. “Y-you’re alright, R-Rrrrickley,” he tried to reason. “Ev-everything’s, it’s uh…”

Shit. He didn’t even know. “M-mmmmy head…”

Rickley continued to tug at his hand as he cried, trembling hard as he couldn’t make words form in his dry mouth. Plug shushed him but it wasn’t enough– he was terrified of their situation and it felt like he couldn’t move. The cold water lapping at their feet didn’t help, and it made him flinch every time it rushed over his toes in a flurry of sand and salt.

Even as Plug moved, Rickley stayed clinging to his body in an act of desperation. That so-called /dream/ was too real to be just a dream.  
"I d-d-don’t kn-know wh-wuh–what ha-happened… Everything w-went b-b-black a-and I w-was really c-cold and y-you were, we’re th-there…” The words poured out of his mouth in a pleading manner, hoping to make the man understand. He didn’t want to let go. He was afraid.

“Wh-where did the b-body go? Wh-what happened? I’m s-so scared…” Watery blue eyes stared up to meet Rick’s eyes, pleading for him to never let go.

The words Rick spoke made his heart twist numbly. “E-e-everything’s n-not g-going to b-be alright! I’m s-s-scared! Wh-what the h-hell was th-that /d-dream/!? R-Rrrrrick, d-dont let go, d-dont make me l-let go… I don’t w-want to fall asleep again…”

Fingers dug into skin as the desperate pleas ran into the salty air. “P-please don’t l-let me fall a-asleep..”

That… that didn’t make sense.

How the hell did Rickley know? Between outpouring of thick tears that attracted grains of sand to stick to his alternates’ gaunt cheeks and gut-wrenching sounds of true terror, he still managed to stumble over descriptions of frighteningly vivid specifics - down to the goddamn T.

The unmerciful cold that numbed his fingertips. The perpetual shroud surrounding warm bodies.

Plug couldn’t determine if the shiver running down his spine arose from the remnant recollections of black water or the shock of Rickleys’ words that left him slack jawed and wide-eyed. Jittering pupils searched Rickleys’ overflowing seafoam blues desperately for a shred of anything that would reveal that maybe, just maybe there was an explanation. “Y-you had the same… ?”

The harder that he wrinkled his brow in thought, wracked his absolutely splitting head for answers, the more fragmented the pieces became. It was like a CD skip in the system, a malfunction in the machinery. An impossibility of a nightmare becoming too goddamn real.

The ocean water lapping over his legs had never harboured such a quiet, overbearing threat.

“But you- we were–” he choked out, tripping over his own tongue. “I-it wasn’t…”

And then, like lightening touching ground in a flash, it hit him.

It struck all at once with the unmerciful impact of a moving freight train, bringing with it a blindsiding revelation that welled up panic in his knotted stomach;

It wasn’t a figment of the imagination.

He knew what this was.

Rick could swear he could feel his heart seize up in the cavity of his chest, all hollowed out by shock and heavy as if filled with stone - It made his mind go blank and his fingers curl tight around Rickleys’ clinging hand.

No. No, there was no way that unspeakable machine was still up and running– That god awful thing–

“R-R-Rickley. S-sssstop.” The breaking warble in his voice gave away the underlying anxiety beneath tangible surface tension. Ricks’ facial features stiffened as he reverted to an unmoving front, an unreadable baseline thrown up in the face of uncertainty - A mask he’d worn back in the prison, while he’d been doing his damndest to ride out waves of chaos, pretend like nothing got to him;

But it was so goddamn hard when Rickley sobbed against him with such brokenness, tugged at his hand like a lost child. Every cry rattling out into the cold gales stung like a needlepoint, scraping against raw nerves and jabbing mercilessly at something soft in his center that only Rickley could reach.

I’m scared. I’m scared.

The hardened expression defining Ricks’ features began to fall apart. It started with twitching at the corners of his mouth drawing into a frown, eyes clouding over and losing their shine. It hurt.

Don’t make m-me let go.

Oh god, oh fuck - he just couldn’t do this anymore.

Fuck everything. Fuck the fear of causing further harm that held him back, the past that plagued him day in and day out, the hundred and one stupid mistakes–

Like the tides changing direction with the wind that whipped over them, an old protective streak kicked into high gear. He had to protect Rickley. Make this stop. He had to seek a safeguard against the unknown darkness that was so cold, so damn cold;

Rolling onto his side in the soft crater of sand, Rick all at once wrapped his arms around thin, trembling Rickley and drew him to his chest. Their bodies fit together seamlessly, the perfection of nearly identical flesh; the smaller man fit just so with his head tucked beneath Ricks’ chin. They were warm and choking on their own breeds of fear but together, all stutters in breathing patterns and shaking muscles struggling to press tight. “R-Rickley, shhhhh, it’s –”

A hand reached up and cradled the back of Rickleys’ head with the utmost delicate of touches, fingers slipping into windblown blue hair. Rick stared out over the top of his head numbly, unblinkingly. Hardly daring to breathe. “I-it’s o-o-okay.” His voice was barely audible and hesitant, as if sticking to his throat on the way out. “E-e-everything’s fine.”

He didn’t know who he was trying so hard to convince. Rickley voicing that it wasn’t only made the denial grow more adamant. They weren’t trapped. They weren’t anywhere but right here.

“W-we did a lot of drugs, R-Rickley.” Searching for the excuses to explain it away. “But we- we’re gonna be okay, we-” He swallowed hard, squeezing just the slightest bit tighter in a way that suggested that he knew, he knew they weren’t.

“W-we’re free. F-f-free.” No they weren’t. Oh god, they weren’t. “All I-I ever wanted w-was to be free with you. Y-you know that?”

The admittance slipping past his lips was stained with evidence of something deeper, a sentimentality that could never be extinguished. The thought of losing everything they’d strided towards: the escape, the accident, the beach –

What if he passed out again and they were there? What if just on the other side of conciousness was nothing? “W-we’ll be fine as - as long as we stay awake, R-Rickley.” Don’t fall asleep. “I-I’ll keep you s-s-safe.”

Rickley didn’t know why they’d had the same ‘dream’, and he didn’t want to. He tried to make sense of Rick’s staggered words that were outlined in disbelief and… horror. He /hated/ how that sounded. He clung to him with a desperation he’d never felt before in his life, as if he would indefinitely /die/ if they were separated. He felt threatened by everything around them. The shift in the sand, and cold waves licking at their numb feet, the pinkening sunset… It all felt like a threat to him and the fragments of his unstable mind.

He hated the way Plug tried to be strong. He hated that he wouldn’t let him help, wouldn’t let him see the side that nobody wanted to see. Rickley wanted to see.  
But the brave face didn’t last long, and when he felt Rick’s arms wrap around him comfortingly his sobs nearly stopped all together, dissolving into a silent crying. Still terrified, but less so, he buried his face into his counterpart’s chest and pressed into him for warmth. For something tangible.

The gruff voice gone soft in his ear made his trembling bones relax, and the careful fingers running through his hair had his anxieties quelling slightly. Still afraid, but safe in Rick’s arms. They both knew they weren’t okay but in some fucked up, twisted way, maybe they were. In each other’s arms, laying by the beach… Wasn’t this their dream? Wasn’t this what they longed for in the darkness of the prison, seemingly centuries ago?

Maybe they were okay.

/All I ever wanted was to be free with you./

It struck a chord deep inside him and he gripped onto Rick tighter, his face tilting up as watery seafoam eyes overflowed like the ocean before them.  
He wouldn’t fall asleep. He wouldn’t let Plug fall asleep, either. The risk of losing themselves… Was too real to be ignored. But the notion that the man surrounding him, oh God, he was /everywhere/, could keep him safe… Was comforting, more than anything.

The stale liquor breath was familiar and magnetic. Rickley licked at his dry, sea salt covered lips and looked up with a longing in his eyes that could not be mistaken– it was broken, yes, but it was sure.

His voice broke as he spoke.  
“I th-think I l-love y-y-you,” he said, breath hitching as tears streamed down his face. Rickley leaned up to press his pink lips to Plug’s, raw emotion fuelling him and shaking him to his core.

It was /right/.

The embrace did manage to soothe Rickley into letting his wracking cries ebb away, and for that Rick was thankful. When those emotions bubbled to the surface, the sounds of distress were the only thing that his troubled mind could hone in on; now the gentle rush of waves crashing onto the shoreline in predictable patterns defined the soundscape. He could hear distant birds, his own blood rushing through his ears, their breath released from their mouths in tandem as diaphragms rose and fell. In, out.

To think that this perfection could be taken away in an instant, ripped like a carpet out from under their feet, was the ultimate cruelty. It manifested as an exhaustingly deep sadness, a percolating sense of limited time that drove arms to cling tighter, trying to memorize how Rickley felt pressed against his bony chest. He was everything, the whole world wrapped up in one human frame - The hitches in his gradually calming breath, the dips in delicate collarbones and shoulders, the curvature of lithe back; And Rick didn’t want to ever let go again.

When those shimmery eyes upturned to bore into his own, he gazed back in half-lidded admiration laced with the faintest hint of real pain. They were always so pure in color and honest in reflections of internal feeling. Those sad blues were the inspiration that had given him the idea of retiring to the beach all along. When he’d looked into them, even in the grimy hopelessness of the darkened cells of another life, Rickleys’ eyes took him to another place and time.

I think I love you.

Oh god, those words. It felt like his heart skipped a beat, dropped out of his center as if on command. He… he’d never realized how much he needed to hear that he meant something to someone. Ricks’ jaw nearly fell open as he struggled to find the right string of syllables to express that he’d always, always–

“R-Rickley, I-I lo–”

Lips pressing against his own took what remained of the sentence right out of his mouth. He leaned into it needily, drawn forth by the sparks of white flashing behind his eyelids - he felt like everything inside of him melted, crumpled under the weight of love.

His lips tasted like ocean water and affection, a blended cocktail more intoxicating than any alcohol that could ever hope to be consumed. Rickley was soft like velvet, entrancing in every way; pulling him into the kiss and hopelessly entangling them both in unmistakable feeling.

It was sweet and it was right. They were two halves of the same being, two sides of the same coin, forged from identical flesh; a mathematically impossible flawlessness. Rick couldn’t resist moving with the flow of salt lacquered lips, lost in the quiet smecks and sighs.

Wandering hands seemed to find niches of their own accord; one traced fingertips up the divet of spine in Rickleys’ back while the other ever so meticulously cupped one of his cheeks. He traced a thumb along the orbital bone as his kisses went off-mark, planting pecks on the corners of his mouth, on the bridge of his nose, and back home to lips again.

Separating only to suck air into his oxygen-starved lungs, Rick flicked a tongue over his bottom lip as if trying to hold on to the nuances of taste. He ran the rough pad of his thumb over Rickleys’ cheek, clearing away a stray remaining tear.

It… it really happened. They were here and they were together and the thoughts running through his brain at a thousand miles an hour wouldn’t cease long enough to form a solid idea of what to say. “I-I, uh, y-you…” He swallowed, eyes lazily tracing the features of his alternates’ face - the wet cheekbones, the gentle slope of jaw, the faint scars creating little valleys in skin. “Y-you’re just so…”

Now it was his turn to let something out of its’ cage; He pressed his brow to Rickleys’ forehead and let out a shuddering breath. “Y-you make me feel l-like I’m - like I’m okay, R-Rickley. Hah.”

The laugh wasn’t anything more than weak, a testament to the thinning barrier between openness and whatever thing within that Rick kept hidden away. “Y-you always made me f-ffffeel okay. L-like I still have s-something.”

The implications behind his tone of hopefulness mixed with absolute despair weren’t specified upon; Rick just sighed and let his eyes flick over Rickleys’ pink lips. “S-someone…”

The chapped, alcohol worn lips that smoothed over his own trembling pink ones brought the strongest feeling Rickley had ever felt in his whole goddamn life. Stronger than any fear, and pain, stronger than the self hatred that always seemed to creep up on him, seizing him when things seemed to be going right. It was stronger than all of that.

And like the tides, it sucked him in. It was as if Plug had him in the unrelenting grip of an undertoe, pulling him down into the water and holding him there. Except the water did not suffocate him, the water healed like a nurturing lover. Maybe that’s who Rick was.

He could feel every little movement, he could hear his heart thumping in his chest. His face flushed pink and his ears were a rosy red. Rickley wasn’t scared. Not of Plug. Not anymore.

When the kiss ended, his lips twitched and longed for more, missing their partner too much to be far apart for long. As Rick spoke, though, Rickley felt his heart swell with some sort of sweet relief and happiness. How did he make Rick feel okay?  
Rick made /him/ feel okay.

Rickley stared into those blue eyes that he’d learn to love so dearly.  
“Y-you make me f-feel like.. I’m not.. Not useless…” he murmured softly before leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth for a second. He pulled away and looked at him again, eyes half lidded with adoration.

“Y-you’re the b-best thing.. Best.. Th-thing that’s e-ever happened to m-me. You’re th-the m-most… Most a-amazing person I’ve e-ever met.”  
He gripped Plug tightly.  
“Oh, oh /god/, I love you so fucking m-much…”

The subtle yet punctuatingly unique taste of Rickley lingered on the edge of the taste buds, leaving a sweeter impression than the salty air Rick sucked in through his parted lips raggedly; It felt like his breath had been stolen away, coaxed right out of his tar lined lungs. He felt like he could lean into another kiss and drown in it, viscous and irresistible like honey.

He was beginning to notice a sequence to these things, a pattern: Whenever the two of them locked lips, even for the briefest moment, it was as if the rest of the world simply drifted into a hazy half-dream that resided in peripheral vision. Here on the shore, everything simmered down to only a sensation of bodies curled together atop the cool sands, all taut sinew and unrequited feelings coming to a head.

All Rick wanted was to stay here forever, staring back in sleepy-eyed admiration at the only person he could ever imagine giving a shit about. Wishing that this moment in time could stretch on for just a little while longer, maybe into oblivion, just so he could let it sink in and become a permanent fixture inside his brain.

He wanted to remember how it felt to be loved.

Because - because that kiss had been so soothing, so goddamn real, so exponentially right that it almost expunged the fear that oh god, oh god, it wouldn’t last. The worry, the wonder, the shortness of days;

It didn’t matter. Right now, here in this moment with their faces juxtapositioned just so, Rick felt close to complete. Like he could freefall fearlessly with the assurance of a safety net, a backup plan even though there was none; all because of this deep comfort derived from having someone there.

It was all they’d ever done for each other. It was what they’d always been - There, watching each others’ backs, holding close in the face of the unknown. One hundred years.

He didn’t want anything more than for Rickleys’ grip on him to stay, just like this. Those thin arms wrapping around his sides, the confessions that he loved him so fucking much - it burrowed into his soul. He let out a sigh at the peck to the side of his mouth, aching for another.

“Y-yyyou’re not useless.” Rick let out a shuddering breath, fingertips lightly digging into Rickleys’ sides. “Y-you’re everything.” His hands had somehow found their way beneath soft sweater, drawn to body heat and familiar scar tissue.

“R-Rickley,” he began tentatively, leaning just a fraction closer, “I h-hhhave to tell y-you that I-I, uh.” His voice waivered, heavied with unspoken truths yet to be said. “Ev-ever since w-we were there, I…” Since those dark days in the shroud of prison cells. “I mean, I always thought th-that it’s just chemicals, R-Rickley, but I just f-fucking knew I - I-I loved y-”

A surge of rogue water suddenly rose like a dark curtain before crashing down, washing over them both. The icy cold drench of ocean water invaded eyes and ears, sending Rick into sputtering and gasps, wiping the sand out of his vision and failing to suppress a full bodied shudder that ran from one nerve ending to the next with a painful prickling as the extremities numbed.

Despite the shock, the way it reminded him briskly of the brackish depths that shifted his feelings about ever swimming again, Rick let out a laugh that was far more nervous than jovial as he pushed himself up on his hands. “Hah! C-c-cold!” He was breathlessly trying to regain his brevity, eyes wide and wild. “Sh-shit, R-Rickley, w-wwwwe gotta move.”

High tide was coming in with a vengeance. It was getting colder and colder outside as the light faded over the sea. In the distance arose black clouds encroaching over the faraway horizon, billowing ominously in their direction as the wind picked up. Looked like a storm coming in. Felt like one, too.

The breeze whipped through their hair and chilled sunkissed skin, turning Ricks’ bare torso to goose flesh on contact. He needed to cover up. Take cover. Whichever he could get to first.

And if he could feel it, frail Rickley definitely could. He drew his partner close to his center, trying to keep some semblance of warmpth between their bodies. “C-c-c'mon, lets - lets get inside b-before it starts raining, R-Rickley.”

It took all but a moment for Rick to dizzily scramble to his feet - that hangover still made his eyes swim - and scoop his lightweight counterpart up in his arms. He held him closer than before, more intimately careful not to jostle - although it was awfully hard when the water plastering hair to his face made him tremble.

The porch steps were washed clean of all signs of struggle, sand absolved of bloody conflict. There wasn’t a trace left of the party, either; It was as if a cleaning crew had swept through the beach house while they lie unconscious, and it unnerved Rick. It wasn’t right, no matter how he flipped it.

The inside no longer had its’ carpet of general filth and discarded solo cups, walkways washed clean and sparse items reorganized. The only things hailing to the house party remaining were neatly lined up bottles on a shelf that… Wait. They definitely hadn’t been there before.

“Hell-oooo?” Rick called into the house, only to receive no response. Nobody was here. It was as if they’d come and gone just like that, removing every trace of discordant chaos. “Guess th-the place is - is s-sssstill ours.” He kicked the door shut behind them, sealing off the gusts that were starting to rattle the flimsy windowpanes.

Rick didn’t want to set his alternate down, relinquishing in the feeling of Rickleys’ warm breath on his collar for a moment more. They were wet, they were confused, and they were freezing, but they had each other. “W-w-we gotta f-f-find some - s-s-someth-thing dry,” he remarked through chattering teeth. He tried to clench his jaw to ceace them, to no avail.

Rick could hear his footsteps on the creaking floorboards, weighted down by carrying what little extra Rickleys’ body amounted to as they moved with purpose through the little home. To his disappointment, the closet at the end of the hall was void of clothes - just towels and blankets. And a drier. Great.

“L-looks like w-w-we’re going f-full toga, R-Rickley.” He set him down on top of the drier, long enough to free his hands and pull soft terry cloth down from the shelves. He tossed one around his own shoulders before throwing one over Rickleys’ mop of blue hair. It was going to take a few of those before the salt water would stop running in rivulets down to the floor, dripping off noses and eyelashes steadily. Rick leaned forward and delivered a brief kiss to the top of his counterparts’ head, a press of lips that could be felt through the cloth. “N-not so bad, h-huh?”

Or maybe it was. He averted his eyes sheepishly, instantly self aware that he stood a good chance of freaking Rickley out; He knew how he felt about being exposed. But they couldn’t stay in these sopping articles of clothing without catching hypothermia. Even the swim shorts stuck to his own thighs were too much. “I-I-I, uh, w-won’t look…”

He didn’t want to stop kissing him. When they were connected, everything felt right. It felt like he could breathe, even in this suffocating terror that was now pushed down into the deep foldings of his mind to be addressed later. Hopefully never again.

As the sweet kisses subsided once more and Rick spoke so close to him that he could feel his warm breath against his cheeks. His face was flushed a deep pink, his foamy eyes blinking slowly up at him as he spoke. Processing the words as they were spoken, he could feel a burning blossom behind his nose, the tell tale sign that tears were beginning to surface.

He shuddered with emotion and then shock as the wave swept him away. He desperately clung to Rick as salt water and sand flooded his mouth, nose, everywhere. The waves that had been so calming had ripped the moment right from their weak grasp and Rickley wanted to scream and cry in frustration. Instead, he attempted to stay upright in the water until Plug picked him up.

He was shivering nearly uncontrollably, the cold seeping into his bones to quickly that he already felt so numb. He tried to wipe the salt water and sand from his bleary eyes enough to look up at Rick with damp eyes, red from sea water. It wasn’t a secret that Rickley was terrified of being submerged in water. It had shaken him to his core but Plug brought him back down to Earth with his intimate grip, blocking the impending panic attack from ever surfacing. He was thankful.

When they entered their new home, Rickley tried to ignore the trickle of fear wiggling to the forefront of his mind. This wasn’t how they left the house.  
But Rick didn’t seem terribly fazed, and if he did, he was good at hiding it. He huddled in his arms until he was set atop the dryer, little pools of water forming underneath him on the floor.

Rickley was grateful for the towel that Plug draped over his wet hair, and his heart lurched slightly at the soft kiss to his head. That solidified any doubt that what Plug said was just in the moment, feelings caused by romantic circumstance.

It was exponentially sweet how Rick turned his head in such an embarrassed way, giving Rickley the privacy he often needed. But… Rickley wasn’t scared of him seeing any longer, though he didn’t voice it, too afraid of rejection or backlash. He didn’t really expect that from Plug, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Th-Thank you,” he chattered, quickly removing his sweater before attempting to pull off his makeshift shorts. Which wasn’t easy when you were sitting, and you were missing a leg.

Nervous and embarrassed, Rickley reached a shaky hand to get Plug’s attention. He pressed his towel to his chest to cover himself, so self conscious.

“I can’t g-get them o-off,” he said, face burning bright pink as he averted his eyes to the ground. He kept a cold hand on Plug, fingers grasping for his counterpart’s own hand.

Even though the two of them had been lost in each others’ tender embrace only minutes earlier, the last thing Rick really expected was… was this request.

It wasn’t as if Rickley was asking for anything that he wasn’t perfectly capable of, it was just – The situation made him hesitate, miss a beat. After the sum of everything that they’d been through, the missing leg resting in plain sight still produced forth an innate anxiety, a worry of doing something wrong or uncomfortable for Rickley. He just wanted things to stay okay. He didn’t want to fuck up again.

A flash of doubt ran across his beach-worn features, healthily mixed with slightly slack jawed surprise. “Y-you want m-me to - to h-help?“ Was he sure? He had to be sure. It’s wasn’t like he could manage a lot on his own anymore, being a fairly recent cripple.

“Y-yeah, s-sssure, Rickley.” Okay. Okay, he could do this and not make it weird. Right?

“H-here, just…” Rick shuffled forward until they were intimately near, letting himself be drawn in by Rickleys’ searching hand. They were comparatively small in the gentle hold of his own calloused ones, only by a fraction. Their palms were cold and damp but altogether dimensionally alike, albeit made gritty by sand stuck beneath fingernails. “P-put your arms on m-my shoulders.” There was a method to his guidance, one that would keep limbs out of the way and provide Rickley something to hold on to, to find comfort in. “O-okay?”

Rick kept his gaze anywhere but focused as the towel fell away from Rickleys’ chest, easing twiggy forearms over the dips between his own neck and shoulder, settling them across marred and smooth collarbone alike.

He could feel the shudder in Rickleys’ breathing shift against his skin, hear the stutter rattling out of his throat. Rick nearly pressed a set of lips to the shell of his ear as he spoke, as calming and even tempoed as could be. “Y-you can t-tell me to stop.“

Hooking thumbs into the loops on the waistband of ocean-soaked trousers, Plug tried to force down the color burning in his cheeks to little avail. He wouldn’t admit it aloud to timid Rickley, but there was something about the way they were close that twisted his guts into butterflies. “E-easy… l-lean back a little.”

The wet fabric didn’t want to come off easily, practically shrinkwrapped to jutting hip bones and skinny thighs. No wonder Rickley was having trouble removing them by himself, when it refused to budge. It was nothing a little finesse couldn’t fix - a gentle rocking of hips helped slide slacks down inch by inch, but not quite enough.

“H-hold on. L-let me just uh-undo…” The button was holding the elastic band fast to slim body, preventing further leeway. Calculated, although shaky fingers deftly undid it, although he did have to glance down briefly to make sure his handiwork was on center - providing him an unintentional flash image of small breasts and scar mottled skin that only made him blush harder. “S-sorry.” Damn it, damn it, why couldn’t he just keep his cool? Maybe all that adrenaline from their meeting lips was still fueling the flames.

It was worth it, though, it did the trick. With eyes averted shyly over the plane of shoulder and wet hair covered by absorbent cloth, the pants finally gave way and slipped over the curvature of Rickleys’ bottom. The thighs were comparatively less of an obstacle, and with only one shin for them to slip over, Rickley was free. The wet fabric fell to the floor, landing with a heavy splat at their feet. “Th-theeeere we go. Uh… L-l-let’s get you a-aaaa blanket.”

Rickley’s face went pink as Rick leveled his request, hot shame flooding his face as he avoided eye contact. He didn’t mean it in any suggestive way– but he was cold and needed to get these soaking wet pants off before the chill soaked through to his bones. When Plug obliged, relief fell over him and he let out a breath he didn’t know he held. Thank god Rick didn’t question him further.

Following instruction, Rickley wrapped his frail arms around Rick’s shoulders, attempting to hold himself up in some effort to help him. He flinched slightly when the towel fell against his will, feeling himself press against Rick’s bare chest. His face went a cherry red, ears burning pink. Rickley trembled slightly, nervous as he was held.

The reassurance Rick gave him settled deep within him. Those words were something he’d never heard in his whole damn life.

/You can tell me to stop./

He had to hold back the emotion. Pale blue eyes closed as he stayed against him, attempting to help him wiggle the slacks off. It was more difficult than planned. His tummy felt all queasy and strange like he was expecting something more, and he even think he may have wanted it. But he never voiced it.

The fingers at his waistband had him trembling with some sort of subconscious anticipation, and Rickley’s cheeks continued to burn a pale red. He felt his breath hitch when Plug looked down at him, and he looked to the side in embarrassment. He just never liked his body.  
“It’s o-okay.”

Moments later, his pants fell wetly to the floor and he continued to hold onto his partner. He nodded at his words, shyly looking up at Plug. “Y-yeah, I’m f-freezing.”

This wasn’t… This wasn’t going so bad. Despite an ingrained sense of caution, a spike of anxiety mixed with a strange longing that creeped in when he brushed hands over Rickleys’ goosebumped skin, his touch resulted in a far different outcone than the last time Rick had dared to put hands anywhere near his counterparts’ waistline.

Instead of a wholly expected flinch or bunching tension running through muscle and tendon, there was a subtle relinquishment on Rickleys’ part - a relaxing of limbs, a lean into a gentle embrace that suggested that he… Trusted him. Really trusted him.

An odd jumble of nerves still found a home in Plugs’ gut, all knotted and burning as intensely as his increasingly pink-tinted face. They kicked in especially hard when he tried to furiously ignore Rickleys’ hips wriggling in such proximity to his own. Don’t make this weird. Don’t make this –

The feeling of a soft chest pressing against his sternum made Ricks’ breath momentarily stall in his throat, picked up his heart rate to the point where he could feel it coursing through his own veins. Tha-thumpa tha-thumpa th-thumpa–

Jeez. Rickey just seemed so small like this, clinging to the available handhold of his shoulders like a crutch. Holding himself near enough for the ridges of their ribcages to brush together when they breathed in erratic patterns.

And then it was all over, and Rick didn’t want him to let go. He didn’t want to break away from this, didn’t want it to end just yet, so he… Stayed for a minute, basking there with forearms hooked loosely around the back of his neck. It felt like he could let his eyes flutter closed and simply melt into Rickley. Maybe he would’ve considered it after they got wrapped up in something warm, if it weren’t for the dreaded threat that sleep held.

Breaking a tinge of awkwardness with the tug of a weak smile, Ricks’ dark-rimmed eyes met Rickleys’ as if magnetized, admiring baby blues with a sparkle of fondness before rediverting his leering elsewhere. Right. He was freezing. “H-hah… M-m-me too.” He knew that he must look flustered, even though he was trying to force a baseline expression, anything to at least slightly obscure these buzzing feelings. Why couldn’t he stop being so damn nervous? Stop it already.

“T-tell you what, R-Rickley- h-hold on–“ Rick interrupted himself and leaned forward a little more, pressing a flat hand to the square of Rickleys’ back, dead center on the gouged X in an effort of physical support as he made a reach for the shelves. "Y-you can wuUuuh-wear the - the fluffiest one.”

The cloth that he yanked down from above was a gloriously puffy blanket, luxurious and stark white enough to befit even the best. It looked too big when pulled around Rickleys’ frame, cocooning him in enough square feet to nearly drag on the wet floor. Rick had to shrug off the reassuring weight of bony arms so that he could wrap it around the front of his alternates’ body, covering everything below the neck. “Th-there.” It was hard to resist running fingers over the excess fabric spilling over the edge of the drier, humming an approval. “What is th-this, a-aaa thousand-threadcount? Y-yyyyou’ve gotta be warmer n-now, huh, R-Rickley?” At least, warmer when put side by side with a wet, partially numbed Rick who stood shivering in a puddle of seawater.

That was one of them disrobed and dried. Now it was his turn. “Uh… I’m just gonna…” Rick rubbed the back of his neck as he took the other available and noteably poorer quality sheet for himself as cover, setting enough distance to be comfortable for Rickley by calculatively taking a couple steps back. The thing was altogether too scratchy and might have a couple holes worn through the threadbarren (and unbeknownst to Rick, transparent in this angle of lighting) cloth, but it was enough for him to drape it over himself and kick off his mystery swim shorts. They fell away with the sound of velcro detaching, and he punted them into the drier unceremoniously. “S-still don’t know where I- where I-I got those,” he mumbled with a frown.

It was probably best not to aid thought to recent discrepancies in their reality right now. Don’t think about it.

The drier rumbled to life when he nudged it closed - It was a waiting game from here on out, just him and Rickley using a couple blankets to get by. Trying to process romanticisms and move on from the bizarre glimpse of darkness they’d seen. Yeah.

“H-here. D-don’t worry, R-Rickley…” Rick slipped an arm under a single leg before sliding the other behind his alternate, bringing a bundle of incredibly cozy velvetine and familiar weight to his torso. He carried Rickley to the front rooms’ couch, holding him so that his head rested perfectly on his clavicle. He pressed a peck to the top of his head. “I-IIII got you.”

The duo plopped down on the cushions in a heap that was the definition of comfortable, side by side in a tangled jumble of excess fabric. “Aaah…” Rick couldn’t help but let himself fall back into the sofa with a sigh, content with drawing knees to his chest and curling up here next to Rickley, having just a moment of relative peace. Although he was still objectively cold from a lack of insulation, crossing arms over himself and worming feet below the extra inches of Rickleys’ share of blanket. “Sh-sh-shit, is there a - aaa breeze in here?”

There was more than a simple breeze outside, that much was for sure. The front windows to their little beachhouse now overlooked choppy waves that swelled to new heights, water angrily crawling up the land; The sky above it had grown severely darker, blocking out the usual glow of moon and distant stars with thick clouds that were nothing short of grey and intimidating. The shutters banged like pounding fists on the sidings in the wind. “H-hey R-Rickley, do - do y-you think its’ gonna–?”

CRACKA BOOM! A blinding blue flash of lightening over the raging waters was immediately followed by a clap of thunder that rattled the wood of their shelter to the stilts. “Sh-shit!” Rick instinctively jumped in response to the assault on the senses, finding that the jolt of panic resulted in him having edged ever closer to the man beside him. It wasn’t like he was scared of the storm or anything, he just… Wasn’t a fan. “L-looks like w-we’re not s-sssunbathing f-for a while. Heh.” The gusts picked up, slamming a shutter against pane. “L-let me under s-s-suh- some of y-yyyour blanket, w-would you, R-Rickley? M-m-m-mine sucks.”

Rick held him with such tenderness it made his heart tingle. Rickley didn’t want to leave his hold, pressed up against him for warmth on cold skin. It wasn’t very effective but he didn’t care. God, he loved this man so much. Why hadn’t he said it /sooner/?

He hummed as Plug pressed his hand to his back to reach up for the blanket. He closed his eyes as he felt the incredible cozy warmth envelope him. The blanket was way too big for him, and he was going to offer some for Plug but the other man had already pulled out his own blanket. Rickley frowned at it, finding it a bit too sad to look at. He watched Rick but his eyes dipped to the floor when he realized the blanket was see-through. A mottled blush spread across his face and he buried himself further in the blanket. He didn’t know why it got him all flustered.

When Plug finally lifted him, he rested against him and held onto him tightly. Closing his eyes, he reveled in the embrace, his breathing soft and steady. The intimacy of the hold had him leering with happiness, a smile spread across his lips. Plug would be the death of him. In a good way.

Lying on the sofa with his newfound love was something he never knew he needed. Though when the thunder and lightning outside crashed and flashed, Rickley practically jumped into Rick’s arms in a sudden trembling mess. He laughed nervously, embarrassed at the outburst. He’d never liked storms.

Rick’s question moments later really wasn’t needed. He would have shared without question, and he easily through the one side of the blanket over Plug’s larger frame. A blush streaked across his sun soaked face, accentuating the sharp curve of a too-thin face and a long nose. Thin pink lips sat underneath, lined with salt and sand. He chewed on the bottom lip nervously as they pressed together under the blanket, his fingers brushing across scarred skin accidentally. He looked away for a moment before back at Plug.

Rickley leaned in to peck at Rick’s lips, his stomach fluttering with a new nervousness as he did so. It was somehow different now– holed up in their little beach side home as the storm raged outside, bare under their warm shared blanket. But Rickley liked this.

He pressed his lips against Rick’s again a bit more confidently, letting his blue eyes slipped closed as he nearly melted into the comfort Rick provided for him. His heart pounded in his chest and Plug was sure to hear at this close proximity.  
The taste of his lips was stale cigarettes and seawater and Rickley loved it. He wanted more– no, needed more. He wanted all of Rick.

A generous portion of oversized blanket cast his way offered a welcome reprieve from the chill seeping through hair width gaps in salt-warped wood. The thin sheet he’d been using as cover fell from his shoulders halfway through the process of maneuvering under its’ superior quilting, edging closer to Rickley as another thrum of thunder rumbled, distorted as though heard from underwater. “Ahah… I-it’s nice under h-here.“

The pink overhueing Rickleys’ delicate features was evenly matched by the hot shade that Rick wore in a patch beneath the orbital bones. He couldn’t help it. The two of them were both completely bare just on the other side of the obstruction of downy covers, unseen but wholly felt. Their thighs touched together without a care, edges of protruding hips brushing, square inches of flesh rocking harmoniously with the steady intake and release of air. It wasn’t by any means uncomfortable or unwelcome, it was… Alright.

Maybe more than alright.

The communal warmpth built up quickly with two bodies generating heat beneath the covers instead of one, and Rick shuddered as fine cotton brushed across his sandied skin. The bedding wrapped around him was innately comforting, but nothing could compare to the calming effect brought on by the man huddled against his side. There was something about Rickleys’ presence that soothed even the rawest nerves brewing in his guts, paved over the anxiety;

Made him feel good. Better than he had in years.

A presence of foreign fingers brushing along the space stretching between ribs and pelvis made Ricks’ breath momentarily catch, but he didn’t flinch away. He’d let those caressing hands wander freely if they wanted to, allow them to drag along the raised borders of old scars or where bumps unhealthily jutted out through taut skin as a consequence of long-term substance abuse on an already overtaxed metabolism.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but Rick could sense something. It was as if a different kind of tension was brewing between them, raging as strongly as the swells raising high over the roiling sea beyond a barrier of glass panes. It was an a natural inclination, an intuition that prodded dreamily half-lidded eyes to join with Rickleys’ adoring gaze and hover there.

God, had that face always been so magnetizing? Eager to absorb every placement detail, Plug swept shimmery pupils over long eyelashes dotted with stray grains of sand and little crosshatched scars and wet lips. “R-Rickley, I…”

The mouth carefully encompassing his lips swept away budding thoughts with all the efficiency of a rogue wave. Rickley tasted like salt extracted from the ocean, clean on the tongue. It stood as the ultimate gesture of gentility and kindness, envoking a fluttery breed of good nervousness that found a home in Ricks’ solar plexus. Just close enough to make his lungs shudder and his stomach do flips at the same time.

When they separated momentarily with a rush of euphoric sighs, heavy eyelids lifting to search one anothers’ expressions, Plug found himself staring back into a mirrored image of unchecked desire. It made him feel weak in the joints, melting his heart right then and there. “Oh, R-Rickley.”

The secondary kiss gifted unto him was backed up by a new intensity on Rickleys’ part, an assertion of self becoming apparent. A silent communication of trustworthiness flowed through the way they deliberately tipped heads, in the fashion that they dragged bottom lips over each other’s with the utmost care.

Their set of hands resting closest together touched fingertips and thereafter swiftly locked in an even knitting of phalanges, lifelines and grooves worn into their palms matching up like two halves of the same road map. An exquisite adjoinent of equal components that came together just right.

As if caught in the clutches of an inecapable current, Rick found himself drawn into displays of tenderness with ease, inspired as far as to let his lips traverse exploratively; dragging them loosely over fragile jawline and jugular with soft smeck, smecks before finding their way back home. His free hand cupped a cheek with splayed fingers, then ran in light pressure over the slope of a shoulder, coming to rest of the recognizable outcropping that defined the endth rib. His legs intertwined below with Rickleys’ only one until they became hopelessly, unrecognizable entangled.

And then he pulled away to suck in air, a sandpaper sigh engraving a line; he opened his mouth, shaking off the accumulated rust on his tongue. “H-hhh- I-IIII love you.“

Rick could barely believe that the words were leaving him, much less with such ease, hopelessly tinged with elements of entire truth. He wasn’t one to believe in the concept of genuine affections, relying on science to explain away that it only worked to compel animals to breed, but this… This was different.

He loved Rickley. Always would.

But he couldn’t fistfight away this sense of potential disaster that thrashed against the weight of love, all complicatedly tangled around his soul and as heavy as the pull of gravity itself. "B-b-but you don’t - you don’t have to.”

The doubts voiced themselves in the sheepskin of forewarning. “Y-yyyyou dont have t-to do anything. W-wwwe can just lay here.”

A spark of caution ignited behind blue irises, dulled by self deprication and a hint of emotion exposing itself in the form of an upturned brow. He dragged a rough thumb over gaunt cheekbones, admiring the permanently worried face before him. “O-or I could… we could… I-if you w-wanted, I-I mean.”

Shit. Fuck, he was going to mess this up again. Tear the progress down to its’ foundations. “I-I-III’m just a-scared I-I’m gonna hurt you again, R-Rickley.” His voice quieted, becoming impossibly tender. “I-I just… w-want you.”

God, how could he fall for someone so similar to himself? He knew why, really… Plug was stronger than him, and Rickley admired that so much about him. He could trust Plug with his life. He wasn’t afraid of him anymore.

The soft kisses that pressed to his lips, then jaw, then curving down his neck made him shiver in anticipation. It felt different, so much more gentle that any other lips that had grazed his skin in the past. His breath hitched and his thin fingers grasped desperately to Rick’s, his other hand moving to gently carress his belly and move up to his chest. Explorative fingers dipped into valleys and travelled over bumps on the skin, mottled with scar tissue and bad memories. How had he fallen so hard…?

He could feel their bodies pressing closer as Plug breathed those words out. The words he thought he’d never hear. It was like a sweet melody that left him dizzy and euphoric, breathing increasing slightly as he pressed against Plug. His soft chest was flat against Plug’s scarred one, legs intertwined and trembling with ideas of what was to come. His tummy swelled with butterflies as nervousness fluttered in his soul, and Rickley loved it.  
He loved Rick.  
100 years.

And then Rick was speaking again, telling him that it was okay, he didn’t have to and honestly Rickley hadn’t been given that option in his life. He’d… Never been given that option. But this time he wanted it to continue, the thumping in his heart acted like a lighthouse to lead Rick out of darkness and into safety. He wanted this with all of his being.

"I wwwant to,” he said, staring up at him with lovely blue eyes that hid nothing, only showed his true emotions. “I nneeed you, I, Rrrrick, yyyyou won’t h-hurt me. I love y-y-you.. I want you to..”

Rickley pressed his lips to his mouth again in desperation, pressing his body flush against him and reeling at the warmth. Fingers moved to tangle in Plug’s pale blue hair, and Rickley let out a little gasp when their mouths parted again.  
“Hhahah…” he took in breaths quickly before connecting their mouths once more. Rick was like a drug that he couldn’t get enough of and he needed him like one too. He couldn’t stand not being with him.

Rickley wrapped his leg around Rick’s waist in an effort to get closer and give them more support. It was a bold move on his part– usually Rickley would have Rick lead him but he realized that they both needed this. They’d do it together. It wasn’t just some one sided thing like it had always been for Rickley. It was more than that now.

When Rickley finally pulled away again, he leaning back to gaze up at Rick with lust hazed eyes and a pinkening face.  
The storm outside raged but Rickley couldn’t hear it. All he could hear was the thumping in his chest and the movements Plug made, his sounds, his love.

God. He /loved/ him.

The path that lithe fingertips traced on the seams of his stringy abdominal muscles left prickling ghostly sensations in their wake, devine touch awakening skin and awashing it in tingling goosebumps. “A-aah…”

For all he was worth, Plug could swear that he couldn’t remember anybody who swept hands over him with such sensitivity, following the long scar struck across his stomach and the lines etched beneath his nipples unflinchingly. It was never quite… Quite like this. It had never bent him to the will of another with such effortlessness, sucking him in like the inescapable pull of a black hole.

Rickley, he wasn’t… wasn’t like anybody else. Even though they’d spent so much time dwelling in an existence highlighted by the over abundance of identical clones wearing their same name and face, he defeated all odds and stood out as one of a kind. He didn’t know of it was because of his dimensional origin or what, but he was more than a Rick. He was special. So fucking special.

Every inch of the tremoring man pressed against his unworthy flesh, the malleably soft chest puddling against his own, it was - this was the closest brush with heaven that he’d ever get.

Rick couldn’t discern exactly how he’d become this invested, sunken chin deep in the warm tides of what must be, had to be love - but it had him wrapped up in a hold that he didn’t ever want to leave. The emotions provoked by moments like these would stick to his insides forever, occupying a previously empty space in his center that he never really knew had been there before.

Alas, even with his most heartfelt desires coming to a head, the tendrils of self doubt started to creep in as the remnants of Rickleys’ lost leg squirmed against his thigh, all empty space where it should extend into a knee and shin. How could he possibly deserve this, when he’d never done enough?

I wwwant to - I nnneed you, I, Rrrrick, y-yyyou won’t h-hurt me–

Rickleys reassuring words shushed the thoughts, told him that he wouldn’t wreak harm, he wanted him like this, and it quelled the intrusive negativity buzzing in the back of his mind. He soothed him like the sound the sea makes, it calmed him down.

I love y-y-you… I w-want you to…

All it took was the hum of that familiar voice drawn out over luxuriously breathy syllables to draw him in like a moth to flame, breathless and hot under Rickleys’ hand. Their faces rested only a quarter inch apart, close enough for Rick to get lost in the beautiful mind running around between those baby blue eyes. Such little distance allowed their lips to briskly touch when they spoke in hushed urgency.

“I nneed you, too, I-IIII’ve always nnn-needed you.”

Hadn’t he said those words before? I need you. I fucking need you. He meant it then, and he meant it now as fingers ran against his scalp, spindly digits finding themselves entrapped within a mess of wind blown hair and effectively securing him in place for another kiss.

With expectant ideas dancing in his minds’ eye with enough vividness to send a shudder along spine, Rick gave in. The affection fell over him like their thick blanket, smothering him in a sense of security and need that urged him to push back with equal intensity. Their methodically placed lips started to stray as they moved across each other with an insatiable appetite for intimacy, becoming messier as the craving for more grew.

They acted as if they just couldn’t get close enough, even though their backs were arched into one another until every individual groove and divet could be felt against rately alighted nerves. It was a type of skin hunger, a longing that guided Ricks’ half-curled fingers to caress across shoulderblades where he could barely make out the X, traveling to entangle his own phalanges in tangled turquoise fluff as they gasped and huffed.

And then Rickley hooked a leg over his side, delicately bent over the widest part of his hips, toes curled;

The fuzzy patches of blue running from the navels to below tickled as they were brought flush together, the flat planes of their bodies rubbing against one another in the most intimate of ways. He pulled the leg a little further up with a hand expertly placed behind a calf, pushing forward until they could really touch;

The sensation of soft skin gliding slickly against his bundle of nerves, even for a moment, made his hips involuntarily buck and his brow arch high on his forehead as his eyelids fell heavily beneath it. “Ohh-hhh~”

Goddamn, it’d been a while since he’d done this, and it showed in the way that the slightest stimulation played out on his flushed expression. This was still in the realm of foreplay, and he could already feel a wetness between his legs. The feelings were like electricity in his veins, a buildup of energy, a dull ache in the lowest part of his guts. "Haah, R-Rrrrrickley~”

Their similar forms interlocked with one another in perfect symmetry, mathematically perfect geometry at every angle. Rick couldn’t help but adorn his lover with kisses running over the crook of neck with calculated gentleness, attending to collarbone and endrogynous zones along the throat with the utmost care. “Y-yyyyou’re perfect, R-Rickley,” he purred, hot sighs pouring out thickly in his ear as he savoured the taste of seasalt. “Y-you’re just f-fucking perfect, babe.”

With long drags of undulating hips creating ecstatic, pleasurable friction, Rick leaned in and attentively parted Rickleys’ mouth open with his own. The space shared between teeth was filled by traded strings of saliva and rumbling moans that were steadily heightening in pitch, muffled by exploratively traversing tongues flicking against one another.

They were quickly reaching a point of desire that couldn’t go unsatisfied, a desperation displaying itself in twitching muscles and tautness that shook the legs. It was sweeping Rick up in the moment, inspiring him to roll over so that he could rest an elbow on the cushions either side of his lover, suspending himself above Rickley.

He paused to blink down lustily at the man beneath him, words coming out unsteadily as gyrating hips and abbreviated breath interrupted speech. "Are y-you - hhh–” He had to dip his head for a moment before continuing. “D-do you like it? IIII-I’m - nnnh - I’m so f-fffucking in l-love with you, R-Rickley, I-III just wanna make you f-ffffeel good~”

Rick’s confession that he’d /always needed him/ hit him hard and he shuddered and sniffled and held onto his lover so tightly. Rickley’s trembling fingers slid down from Rick’s hair to wrap his arms loosely around his neck, hands pressing against the taut skin of his back. He pressed back up against him when they finally, really touched and oh, oh god–

He shivered at the feeling, his heart swelling full of love and feelings that could no longer be quieted. The slick warmth that was undoubtedly /Rick/ pulled him into an intoxicating trance that left him dizzy and happy. How could Plug be this amazing?

He exposed his neck a bit more for the man, shuddering and squeezing his eyes shut at the gentle kisses along collarbone and throat, and a moan rumbled low inside of him. His mouth opened up in a pant, brow knitted in his permanent worried expression. Soft whines escaped salt cracked lips.

Rickley wasn’t perfect, no, Plug was wrong because he couldn’t see that /he/ was perfect, not Rickley. He tried to get the words out, breathless and overwhelmed. "Yyyou… Hhhah.. Yyyou’re perffffect… I love you, I love youuuuu…”

And that’s when the tears started falling, quiet sobs shaking his body as pleasure wracked through him. So overwhelmed with this strange, /different/ feeling of love… The unfelt gentleness of a true lover. He didn’t know how much he needed Plug until now.

“Sssssokay…. Hhhah… Riiick… Good, you’re gggood… I love you,” he rambled out, being halted by the heated kiss that Plug swooped him into. He kissed back with the intensity of the sun on a hot summer day. He cried and kissed him and it was so fucking good.

High pitched noises escaped his mouth as he felt himself nearing the peak of pleasure, whining at the change of position but finding himself okay with it when he stared up into his eyes. The soft words enveloped him in a gentle security. He smiled.

“Fffeels good, I l-l-love it, I love y-you..” he sobbed quietly, the sweetness in his words too much for him to handle. He clutched onto him tightly as he felt himself spiralling down, hips bucking up needily as he neared the peak.

All sobs and tears and moans, Rickley cried his name out softly as pain– no, no /pleasure/ washed over him. It was outlined in a pain he’d never seemed to get rid of, but the good outweighed the bad. It was okay. He still loved it.  
“Rick, Rrrriiiiiiick… Hhhhh.. Rick…!”

He clung to him tightly as he stuttered against him. Eyes closed shut tightly.  
“I llllove you…” he whimpered out moments later, unwilling to let up on his tight grip. He didn’t want him to leave, oh God, please don’t leave, everyone else did oh God oh God.

“Please s-stay, please, p-p-please don’t l-l-leave… I d-dun–d-don’t want you t-to goooo…” he cried softly, nuzzling against him, pleading.

The crack of a muted sob rattling through Rickleys’ quaking frame brought the persistent grinding of hips to a stuttering halt. The pricks of heavy tears welled up into thick beads that rolled over the details of an expression that was contorted into an emotion blended between overwhelmed and intensely pleasured.

Had he done something wrong?

No, he - he’d been doing something right. That much became apparent by the way his partners’ words came out in slurred reassurances, laced with moans that were more decadent and intoxicating than anything Plug had ever slammed into his veins. The body responded to his partners’ neediness autonomously, resuming a steady pace of pelvic thrusts as skin grew unbearably hot in the most exquisite of ways.

“Haaah, I-I’ve got you,” he breathed, cupping the back of Rickleys’ head with the utmost care. He swept droplets away with caressing fingers, planting kisses in their wake. “I’ve got you, R-Rickley…”

Had he ever felt this good before? This at home against the flesh of another? Just when he thought he’d never let himself care again, Rickley came along along and brought his cold heart back to life. That smile breaking through like a gap of sun in the clouds from beneath knitted brow, the words driven out in desperate sighs were everything he ever needed.

And oh god, those sounds that poured out of Rickley were throwing his mind into a lustful tizzy, forming an inescapable haze that sent white sparks flashing behind his eyes. That voice in high in ecstasy was smooth and sweet as honey, interwoven into uncontrollable breaths that swept in rushes of warmpth past his ear. Each and every one left him in ragged gasps, subtle convulsions rattling through the entirety of brittle limbs and flawless curves; It was driving Plug over the edge.

With thin legs hooked around each other as anchors, split wide like scissors, Rick picked up the pace with a groan muffled by Rickleys’ hungry lips. He couldn’t resist. It was warm and wet and soft between them, and he could sense the muscles in his lower abdomen starting to burn from exhertion and, and –

He just couldn’t get enough. His skin itched like a junkie on a comedown, urging him to moan in turn as he worked to unwravel Rickley completely. He wanted more, he needed more…!

It was too much. The pressure of arousal gathered low in his guts, tensing harder and harder as it grew and throbbed until threatening a breaking point. Their mouths parted into Os with the resistance of bottom lips sticking together as Rick tipped his head and let his eyes roll back, giving in with one last sensuous push. "Ooohh, a-aaah, I’m - I-I’m gonna hhh–!”

The body locked up all at once as the thrumming release washed over him in waves. “Hhhhhhaaah R-Riiiiickley!” Caught in the throes of orgasm, his legs squeezed tight and hips bucked on their own accord as he rode it out with Rickley crying out beneath him, all composure lost. “Uhhhn f-fuuuuck…”

When the blackout from pure blinding pleasure began to gradually fade and his vision started to return, Ricks’ spent muscles lapsed in former strength and left his heaving form draped over Rickley, pressing forehead to forehead. “Riiiiickley…”

The arms looped around the back of his neck stayed tight, tying him down with trembling fingers digging into his spine. He could hear it in the gutwrenching begging, the oddly placed pleas - the fear.

“W-why would I–?” Did… Did Rickley really think he was going to leave?

“Hey. H-hhhey, I-I’m, heh–” he let out a meek laugh, unsure of how to bring comfort after the rush that still has his heart beating doubletime. “I’m not g-gonna go a-aaanywhere, R-Rickley.” As if to prove his point, he wrapped scarred arms around shoulders, the even smallest friction induced by movement enough to give him jello legs. “I-III - hhh - l-love you.”

The kisses rained down everywhere they could reach. Beneath dark rimmed eyes, along the deepest scar running lengthwise across cheeks, the corners of eyes and lips, on every other freckle.

Rick loved him. He really loved him. “Y-yyy-you’re my wuuu-world. You’re all I h-have anymore.”

With a newfound feeling backed by that confession seizing him by the soul, Ricks’ grip tightened around the dip of the waistline, bent around Rickleys’ lower back. He could just barely tuck his head under the other mans’ sharp chin, pressing a kiss to the space where breast bordered pectoral. “Y-you don’t h-hhhate me now, r-rrrright?”

The question came out quiet, weak against chest. He didn’t look up, just hanging on like his life depended on it, protectively curling his legs under Rickleys’ so that the other mans’ moist fuzz rested beneath his belly button. “Y-you’re not gonna get s-scared of me a-and…?”

Rick was just so perfect– Rickley’s heart twisted with love when he cried out his name. Plug had him in a vice of love that he’d never be able to wiggle out of. He didn’t want to, anyway…

It was all so hazy and messy but Plug’s reassurance settled inside of him easily, burrowing into his heart and permanently engraving that fact that Plug loves him. And no, he’d never leave him. It was comforting, amazing– he was so undeniably grateful. So in love.  
"I, I llllooove you tooooo…” he said breathlessly, a nervous little giggle escaping him as the afterglow washed over them.

He stayed against him, blush spreading across his face again as Rick kissed his chest. “O-of course I don’t hhhate you..!” Rickley said in surprise suddenly, humming at the change of position and keeping his own arms wrapped around him as well. “I’m n-not afraid of y-you… I love you… I… I t-trust you.”

And he did, he trusted Plug with his life, his soul, his /heart/. Everything. He didn’t want this to be like every other relationship. He didn’t want to have to pretend it never happened. He wanted to remember this time. “I w-want to be /with/ you…” he murmured.

And in the silence Rickley realized the storm had stopped and the chill was creeping in even faster, even beneath the fuzzy warm blanket that had seemingly kept them so warm before. Rickley’s blue eyes skimmed across to the windowpane, brow knitting upwards in confusion. It was… White. Everything was white, was that… Snow?“

"Rick, th-there’s snow outside…” he said softly, sitting up slightly despite how much his body protested. He was so tired– sluggish. But the strangeness pulled him in. How was that possible? So cold…

“How c-could it snow? What… Is th-that even possible? I didn’t think it was th-that cold..” he moved his seafoam eyes to look at him and moved closer.  
“That’s w-weird, Rick.. We should.. Ch-check it out?”

The shell of an ear resting against sternum picked up vibrations from every rattling breath released through the affirmations that Rickley spoke without tribulation, as calming as the gentle sea. He told him in soothing tones and stutters that he wasn’t afraid, that he trusted him.

It was only then that Rick realized that… that he hadn’t heard that phrase aloud in too long. They hadn’t dared to utter anything about trust since the last time they’d been barefleshed and everything went wrong. So long ago, so much different than this slice of paradise.

Every honest word brought with it an overpowering sweep of relief that cleared away the anxiety that had gathered into a ball in Plugs’ stomach. The ridgid tenseness that he hadn’t even been aware of holding fell away entirely, and his head became heavy against the cushioning of Rickleys’ chest with a long sigh, letting his eyelids fall closed. “Good, th-that’s good…”

The way that he reacted told novels in just a few mumbled syllables; it was as if he’d been expecting to hear the polar opposite as the answer to his queries. Oh god, was he glad that he didn’t hate him. To think that he’d actually done the right thing this time around, that he was lucky enough to have his lover in his embrace…

“I w-wwwant to be with you, too, R-Rrrrickley.” His voice was thick with sleepiness - he felt so tired, like the energy pent up in his limbs was simply no more. He didn’t want to move, he just wanted Rickley to keep holding him. “F-forever.”

This satisfying way they cradled one another in crooks of arms and slick legs, how their shoulders gradually slowed their rise and fall was indescribably perfect. Maybe he could let conciousness ebb away for only a moment, just a few seconds so that he could really soak it in…

It was quiet here, as still and picturesque as a painting. Eerily peaceful in a complete absence of noise, almost as if they were sealed in a vacuum that whirred softly as bursts of icy cold seeped beneath their steamy covers in licks of chill brushing over sweat dappled skin.

“What do you mean thuh- there’s snow?”

It took some effort to lift his weary head in interest, even more to push himself up on hands to peer beyond the windows and out over the abyssal whiteout plane. “W-whuh…”

The brewing storm outside the panes had come to an abrupt end, forging the thick silence, but who would’ve thought that the reason would be a temperature droppling low enough to freeze the ocean over that fast? Not even the sound of crashing waves broke the ambiance, nullified by a, a-

A sheet of white ice extending as far as the eye could see, daylight hung high over its’ snowy surface. “How long w-were we…?”

They must’ve been at it for a while, but it hadn’t felt like a whole night. Outside was an image of pure blankness only highlighted by the reflective sun, void of color to the point that the landscape appeared to be entirely alien. It beckoned to him from afar, promising and endless and somehow coaxing them both to investigate. He just had to step foot upon it, see what lie in place of where there had once been rolling breakers.

“Y-yeah,” he agreed lazily, absentmindedly dragging fingers over a thigh. “W-we should go and- aaaand look, R-Rickley.”

BZZZRT. The dryer went off with an obnoxiously loud buzz that made Rick jump - he really loathed anything that even remotely resembled alarms or crackling speakers, forever fouled in his mind by association with prison cells. Pushing the memory from his mind, Rick replaced his train of thought with another - That must mean that their sopping wet clothes were finally dry. How goddamn long had they been tumbling for? All night?

“I-I better check that so w-we can - we can go outside.” It’d stand as a basic necessity to fend off the cold beyond the door with warm clothes. But first he had to get to them.

Steeling himself against the breeze that tickled the soles of his feet as he placed them on the wooden floor, Rick unwound himself from his partners’ grasp with a degree of hesitation, leaving a parting peck on the jawline before slipping out from underneath the balled up covers. They fell away like a cape as he straightened up, leaving him completely nude in full view with his back to Rickley; inadvertently displaying a mess of scars hopelessly gouged into his back and thighs and butt where something appeared to have once dragged downward and sliced through like knives in clusters of fours and fives. “Ohhh, it’s - it’s c-c-cold.” He shielded himself with thin arms crossed over ribcage that worked to fight the shiver that stopped him dead in his tracks, lingering just little longer in the path of Rickleys’ gaze as he shuddered. Better get to that drier fast.

The door popping open let a welcome puff of warmpth flow over his legs, accompanied by a pleasant surprise. “H-holy shit!”

The reason for the exclamation of disbelief made itself known as Rick dumped the contents gathered in his arms at Rickleys’ feet in a pile. “M-my clothes! Th-they were here the whole time, R-Rickley. ”

Sure enough, there were his missing articles, all accounted for. Albeit his overcoat had turned a soft pastel pink, thanks to a stray red sock that it must’ve been washed with. Not that he really minded the change in hue. He was thankful not to be stuck with swim shorts alone. He threw on is shirt and slacks as fast as he could, trying to duck under something that would keep him from feeling numb from cold.

“H-here, l-lemme just…” He shook out Rickleys’ crumpled pants, tied off at one of the legs to accommodate for his half leg. He sat down and slid them over a leg, hooking thumbs through the loops to draw them up over hips.

The fluffy sweater found its’ way into his hands, and Plug looped the collar over Rickleys’ head with care. He was almost disappointed to see it fall over his torso and obscure porcelain breasts from view. “Th-there. Y-yyyou’re not too cold, r-right?”

With both of them ready to face the snowy land beyond the beach houses’ threshold, Plug scooped Rickley up in his arms and headed for the door. It swung open and the chill hit them like a solid wall, almost as if they’d stepped in front of a refidgerator. He held the man against his chest, where their bodies both generated heat together.

The handrailing that ran alongside of where the steps had once been was covered in icicles that hung down like long fingers, reaching for the wood porch. It was leveled evenly with a field of white stretching in every direction - the land that the houses’ stilts had sat upon was simply gone. It was like they were standing on an island in the middle of a vast ocean, completely isolated.

Slowly, cautiously, Plug put a foot down atop the ice covered in a few inches of snow with a barely audible crunch, and then another. It held their combined weight without shifting at all.

"W-we should… go w-walk out on it, R-Rickley. W-wwwwe gotta.”

God, Rickley just adored the way that Rick held him, spoke to him. It felt like he was really loved, it felt so amazing and he just couldn’t believe it. So happy.  
Though the snow still stood as an impeding curiosity that he couldn’t ignore. The buzzing of the dryer was placed too conveniently for this to be normal. The strappings of fear seeped into his heart and head, whispering trickling horrors into his mind.

He looked at Plug and the fear melted away easily.

Rickley reluctantly untangled himself from his lover, kissing his hand as he left to get their clothes. He curled under the fluffy blanket, body shivering from the chill and the sudden exhileration that ran through him from the events that had just occurred. He felt tingly and warm and happy. Good.

When Rick returned, Rickley was pleased that he’d found his clothes. It would make it much easier if they were to brave the bitter cold that the storm had wrought. Rickley watched him put on his clothes quietly and smiled when Rick turned to help him as well. He hated that he was so helpless, yes, but he loved each soft touch, each prolonged contact of brushing fingers against scarred skin. He wriggled into his pants with Rick’s help.

The fluffy sweater was warm and cozy as it fell loosely over his skinny frame. Sparkling blue eyes stared up at Rick, lined with trust and love.  
"Not too c-cold, no. A little..” he said when he was lifted, nuzzling against Rick’s chest. The sudden chill that hit them made Rickley shiver in his arms and let out a little shaky hum. It was okay…

The blank whiteness outside was so different from the warm paradise they’d fall asleep in earlier. Even the ocean was frozen over for what seemed like miles. The crunch of the snow had nostalgia hitting him like a bus going full speed down an empty highway. He’d never liked the snow.

But Plug was here– Plug would keep him safe and who could say they walked on a frozen ocean? Of course they have to.

“L-let’s go see, then!” he said, looking up to shoot him a wide smile.  
The ice underneath them didn’t give, even with their combined weight. It seemed thick and sturdy, and not even slippery. They walked out a bit, braving the cold desert like plain.

Rickley saw something then, a couple hundred feet away. As they approached, something inside him began to fall apart. It was so familiar, too familiar.

An eight foot steel pole jutted from the ground, a long heavy chain hanging down from it. Attached to the chain was a metal collar, and if examined closely, it would be apparent that the collar had a large X imprinted onto it. Surrounding the pole was a splash of bright red, pooling beneath the chain and collar and splattered around the pole. It looked like an animal could have been kept there, abused.

Rickley was crying.

“W-wuh… what is that?”

The monument rose up out of the unbroken ice with all the sullenness of a grave, impending and unnaturally placed. It cleaved the sky in two high above their heads, standing there as if meant to signify something. Had it always been out there beyond the white caps, a marker thrust up out of what had once been the swirling sea?

No, this was… This was wrong and he could feel it. It was like claustrophobia without walls, the imminent looming threat of being trapped.

The mere sight of this metal beam unnerved Rick in ways that he couldn’t quite mentally pin down, the related emotions blurry and indistinct at best. Squinting up at the chain swinging gently in the wind, softly clink, clinking against hollow steel formed a suffocating tightness housed between the ribs, and he crinkled his nose in aversion. Or maybe that was just a natural disgust response to the viscously thick, sickening smell of blood wafting across the tundra.

It was absolutely fucking everywhere. Beneath the swinging tether lie a staggering amount of crimson, glistening and still warm enough to melt the snow it had been splattered across by the pint. The scent of iron lie heavy over the scene bathed in streaks of gruesome color to contrast the rest of the surrounding untainted landscape, contained in a wide arc around the pole in enough volume to rival even the purgiest of planets.

“Wh… what the fuck h-happened?”

Even though his voice was low in abject horror, Rick felt compelled to be drawn forward. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his stomach tie itself into nauseating knots, but still he edged closer. The curiosity clawed its’ way out past better judgement, guiding his feet to shuffle and step over lukewarm splotches of fresh red despite the gutwrenching dread settling within his roiling center.

It looked like a slaughterhouse, as if somebody hung an animal up by the legs and let it bleed out while alive. There were imprints from shoes and hands and wide sweeps cutting through the drifts where there had been some kind of struggle involving more than one person, or something had been dragged thrashing;

But there was nothing around for miles.

No footsteps leading in or out of the gruesome circumference. No sign of life in any other direction.

It was just the two of them standing out here amidst the blankness, a streak of pink overcoat holding blue sweater atop the floe. Right? It was just him and–

“R-Rickley?”

The man cradled in his arms was trembling in a ball, but not because of the cold. He wondered if the presence of this whole thing was driving a stake of stabbing fear into his heart, too. “R-Rickley…”

He was crying. The tears falling down his sharp chin in thick streams might as well have been screams. It made Ricks’ skin crawl and his chest ache all the same.

“R-Rrrrickley, l-listen, I… I th-think I should t-touch it.”

Rickley was too familiar with the smell of his own blood.  
How this was even possible, he didn’t know, but he knew this was the exact scene that had played countless times in his mind. He could feel the pain all over again, and he suddenly wanted to be trapped beneath the ice and forced to drown.

“N… Nnnonono, NO!” he screeched, nails digging into Plug’s pink jacket and probably sinking into the skin underneath. He couldn’t let Plug feel it, he didn’t want him to be tainted by his past.

Too late, too late, Rick was already so close to it and Rickley clung to him desperately, crazy blues staring in terror. The closer they got to the pole, the more the feeling of dread and death hung over them.

Rickley fought his way out of Rick’s arms and landed on the ice painfully, trying to crawl away from the gruesome scene but his body wouldn’t let him. He fell back towards the blood, the chains tangled around his leg, he was going to die, they were going to hurt him, oh god oh god oh fucking god !!!

The ice was breaking the ice was cracking and he couldnt see Plug and it felt like his heart was going to stop. The cold surrounded him and he let out a shriek as he felt water envelope him entirely, rushing into his nose and mouth and drowning him as he struggled to reach up to the ice.

The clear warning embedded in the alarm of Rickleys’ voice fell on deaf ears. Rick was’t paying attention to the fearful cries, nor the nails digging harshly through the fabric of his jacket; he couldn’t seem to rip himself away from the gravitational pull surrounding the matte chrome pole fixated in the center of his deadeyed gaze.

It was like a negative magnet, the promise of a discoverable mystery lying just out of reach, and he wanted to understand it.

The closer in proximity that he drew, the more that his powers of reasoning weakened to the whispers slipping into his brain. Touch it, they urged. Touch it. He… he needed to touch it.

It had to happen. He had to know.

The arm supporting Rickleys’ quaking weight against his torso began to limpen, absentmindedly shushing him like a child. “Shhhhh, R-Rickley, I-I just… just gotta…”

A hand reached forward with tentative persistence against an invisible barrier creating resistance in thin air, fingertips outstretched and splayed as they drifted within an inch, a fraction of an inch, nearly there–

It all hit him with the force of an electric shock, tearing through his body and ripping his conciousness in half on the spot.

The bizarre flash images played on a first-person reel as his eyes rolled into the back of his head, at the mercy of a hundred thousand constricting unpleasant feelings and sensations of screams that had long ago burned his throat into silence.

Why wouldn’t anybody help him?

Oh god, why wouldn’t somebody stop this?

Everything was blindingly bright white and sickeningly red and he couldn’t see well enough through thick rivers of blood to tell who the filthy hands on his hips belonged to. He didn’t know why rows of teeth and fingernails bit into his skin so viciously, flaying him open like a slab of meat and effectively pouring him out onto the coldest sheet of ice.

He’d never known that humans could act with such barbarity.

His voice box was reduced to whispers after begging for hours but they still wouldn’t stop. It was laughable to beg for an end to this, and he knew it, but he still tried. Repeating the same mantra between gasps and sobs: Please. Please oh god. Please stop please.

It felt like he couldn’t breathe. They were all over him, tearing to shreds wherever rough palms or sharp knifepoints could reach. A cacophony of cruel laughter and disgusting voices inches from in his ear while his everyting was laid out like a vivisection and

and oh god, the sheer agony between his shoulders as it burned and sizzled and brought the deepest shame and –

It hurt. It would always hurt.

He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to do this. Why did they do this?

The layers of /self/ peeled away in agonizing lethargy atop the frozen snowpack that numbed his shaking bones, unquelled by the warm bodies brushing his own. It was all too much, he couldn’t take it, he couldn’t TAKE IT, HE COULDN'T–

“AaaaaaAAAAAAH!”

The scream rung out as his body went rigid in shock as if he’d been shot where he stood, the piercing cry carrying in a feedback echo over the wastes. It was steeped in desperation, like a last call for a savior mixed with a death rattle, a sum of everything he had left in his broken, used body.

Except he wasn’t there, chained beneath the beam. That hadn’t been his body being scratched and marked and beaten.

In reality - or what felt like it - he was placed here before the evidence of the nightmarish scene that had arrived with the vividity of a true memory. It leeched into his pores and would stick permanently to his brainstem forever, an irremovable dark stain on his very being.

“O-oooh god, R-R-Rickley-!”

His alternate was the spitting image of physical suffering, the patron saint of martyrism scrambling upon the crackling frozen sea, the breaking ice–

“R-Rrrrrickley, d-dont move!”

The cracks in the ice spiderwebbed outward in tendrils that spread under his own feet, responding to even the slightest movement. It shifted unsteadily, threatening total collapse into the unknown. He tried to create an even stance, take opposite steps, tried to even the stress, but it was impossible know which way the ice melts.

And all beneath Rickley, epicentering at his point of impact, the solid sheet that had once seemed so stable and joyously dreamlike suddenly /gave way/ in one heartshattering CRACK, falling out from under him like a trap door.

“N-NO!”

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening, not like this. They’d come so far and –!

It was by an act of pure instinct to save the one he loved, the only reason for him to be alive from the clutches of fast moving tides that allowed him to slide on his belly and plunge arms shoulder deep into the frosty black depths so unflinchingly. Outstretched fingers clutched onto the saturated fabric of a sweater, locking in a firm hold on the collar even as the current carrying Rickley under the ice pulled him headfirst into the hole.

The brackish saltwater invading his eyes and ears was well beyond simple cold, something more advanced than that. It was like being stabbed with needles all over, easily ripping his breath away in one patch of bubbles that floated above his head to the distant surface above. The water prevented all forward progress, no matter how hard he tried to kick against it, wresting him ultimately unable to drag himself and Rickley back up to a pocket of air.

It was too late. Rick opened his mouth to yell but there was no sound escaping, nothing left in his lungs to exhale. There was no backup plan for this scenario, no hope for a last second save, no strength left in his tired frame;

And so he accepted the untimely fate he’d befallen as a symptom of his own stupidity and closed his eyes, finally inhaling heavy water into convulsing lungs as he sunk like a stone,

only to snap his eyelids wide open with crazed, guttural fear in the presence of the familiar close quarters and confines of the dark.

The foot or two of bone chilling water made his muscles go taut as it lapped gently at his chest and torso laterally and oh fuck, fucking god, he was so fucking scared out of his wits that strange hands were going to spider out of the shadows to grope at him. “Hhhh-hhah oh god n-nuh-nnnnnooo–!”

He was back within the clutches of the all consuming black void, the one that resembled the world under the frozen ocean but was somehow different. When he looked up, he couldn’t tell if it was ice or glass above his head. Pressing a palm against it only revealed his dexterity to be minimal at best. It felt like he hadn’t used his arms in ages.

The panic inspired his heart to thrum like a hummingbird, ribs poking through goosebunped skin as he laboured to take in oxygen through the shuddering that had him nearly in a seize. “Nnnno! N-nnnoo d-don’t touch mmm-mmmuh–!”

Rick didn’t know why the water felt hotter on his face, traveling in rivulets down his cheeks, but it felt like fire. “I-iiiit huuuurts, it hhh-hhhuuuh…” Eyes couldn’t discern anything through the blur and his leg ached so badly and his entire body was unresponsive and numb and his teeth clenched hard enough for molars to chip.

“R-Rrrrickley,” he managed to called out weakly, hands tangled in thick rubber encased wires searching for opposite planes of bare skin. They were always together, he had to be here. He had to find an anchor of something, anything amongst the unbearable pain crawling through his tortured skin. Why wouldn’t it stop? Why hadn’t /they/ stopped?

“Rrrrhhhh-hhh-hhh–”


	4. Swept Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the final installment of the canon series of Plug Rick and Rickley. Kind of regrettable that it ends with a smut scene RIP... but I kind of stopped roleplaying soon after this.

Rickley could feel his lungs expanding painfully as water flooded inside, and he barely registered Plug grabbing the neck of his sweater to try and pull him up. He didn’t know that Plug had seen everything– felt everything. He’d never wish that upon anyone. It was his burden to bear.

He didn’t feel fear when he felt them both sink toward the bottom. Sure, it would have been nice to live the rest of their days together, but he knew life wouldn’t let it be that simple. They’d told each other the resounding truth; they’d confessed their love and honestly that’s all that was on Rickley’s mind in the few moments of peace he had before everything faded away.

The moment he could feel anything, Rickley recognized it as pain. It felt like he was being brutally ripped apart at his core, barbs pulling his body open like a gift on Christmas. He screamed and convulsed, body trembling and shaking as he sucked in breaths desperately. He was so thin, arms like sticks and hips jutting out painfully on to the hard surface below the water.

He heard his partners panicked cries in sensitive ears and he took a deep breath, trying to move his head to see him in the darkness. “Rr-Rrrick, i-i-it’s okay, we’re okay, we should… God.. Iiits so cold.. Weee can… ittts a bad dream…”  
He sure fucking hoped it was.

He gripped onto him weakly, tired and sensitive eyes staring at the outline of a person on the wall of the chamber. He tried to call out but he couldn’t move his mouth, and he felt himself getting weaker again. He knew it must have been some kind of drug being pumped into his system, but he couldn’t fight it. Sleep overtook him again.

He woke up with a painful gasp and yelped when he felt a fuzzy blanket and a warm body pressed to him. The bright sun filtered through the window and the ocean roared outside. His eyes gazed over the pinkish sand on the beach, and he barely flinched. He didn’t have the energy to be afraid.

Rickley turned down to Rick to wake him up gently, and he pulled him closer in his arms. “Rrrrick.. Hhhah… we’re alive? I ddddont know… I.. Love you…”

It felt like hell in here.

There was just so much that hurt. It was unbearable to simply exist in this tired body, tortured by the ghosts of numbed wounds that unmercifully stabbed at the fractured psyche. The nonexistent lacerations manifested as twinges and tenseness in shuddering muscle, resulting in whimpers and flinches instead of Plugs’ usual stoicism. It was - it was almost as if the pain was layered over itself doublefold, like it was all twice as intense as it should be. “Hhhh-hhhurts…!”

Oh god, the sheer agony was unendurable in this unearthly ice bath, and the haunting memories wouldn’t go away and these strange cords burrowed underneath his pale skin ached. Where was he? Why couldn’t he get up?

Rick dimly recognized that his body felt intensely heavy, like he’d swallowed an entire bottle of sedatives trying to stave off this debilitating discomfort. It made the edges of everything in the pass of his teary gaze wobble unsteadily and make little sense, as if he was trapped in a waking dream. He swore he could see the outline of a distorted shadow of one of them looming over his helpless form, patiently waiting with dangerous intent.

He wanted to be safe. He just wanted to be safe. “Rrrh-riiiickkey?” He croaked out a fear-weakened cry, the trembling man unable to withhold a quiet sob that marked a wash of emotion that fell out like he’d been gutted;

Even the consolation of another he trusted holding him close and mumbling sleepy, halfhearted reassurances couldn’t save him from the emotional onslaught. Rick leaned into the embrace with every ounce of willpower he had left until his forehead rested on collarbone, desperately trying to find salvation within the meager protection and slightest warmth of bony limbs. “C-c-cold, it hhhhurtsss… D-d-don’t let them g-get me…”

Oh god, he was so incredibly tired. He couldn’t keep this up for much longer, judging by the way his eyelids drooped and fibrous sinew began to limpen. Even the fingers dug into adjacent flesh couldn’t bear to maintain their grip. Maybe if he just - just closed his eyes for a minute, maybe he could forget…

It was just so bitterly cold.

Right up until it wasn’t.

For a long moment, he didn’t want to chance opening his eyes just in case the gentle sound of distant waves and soothing voice attempting to wake him and pleasant sensations wouldn’t actually be there. “N-nnnnooo,“ he protested groggily, brow furrowing over screwn-up features in a drowsy grimace.

Blue eyes fluttered open under the rousement from the bare body nestled against his beneath the warmth of incredibly soft covers, and Rick struggled to blink away excess wetness that ran down his chin and tasted like salt. The light poured over them in golden streaks, and the gentlest breeze flowing in from outside smelled like ocean paradise. He was okay here, that much he knew, even in half concious state of confusion. “R-rrrickley? H-how’d we…”

What about the bad weather that’d rolled in and frozen the sea over? What about the cracking ice and the towering pole standing lone in the middle of the emptiness and–?

Maybe it’d all been another one of those reoccurring nightmares. After all, it felt like he’d been asleep for ages, completely at ease in a sleepy haze of hypernight.

But it’d felt so real.

“Mmmh, d-don’t let me go…” Rick pitifully whined, arms snaking under Rickleys’ shoulders so that his hands could come to rest in tangled hair. “O-oh god, I-IIII had the w-worst dream, R-Rickley, I–”

Rick didn’t know exactly why he was drawn to it with such conviction, but one set of his fingers brushed along the uneven patchwork of scar tissue that made up the red X burned between opposite shoulders, sensitive and shaky like he was trying to soothe his own wounds.

He could feel it. He swore he could.

“I’m s-so sorry,“ he sniffled. "I-III’m so s-sssorry for what they - they d-d-did to you, R-Rickley.”

"I-its… It wwwwas a bad d-dream..” Rickley stuttered, biting his lip and trying to reassure his trembling partner. He looked so afraid and broken. It was like looking into a mirror, but Plug didn’t have all the scars. “Iiiiiit’s guh-gonna be fine Rick.. We’re f-fine..”

He shuddered and slid closer to Rick, pressing up against him for warmth, afraid the gnawing cold would come back. The strange familiarity of his missing leg grounded him to reality… Or… Whatever this was.  
He could feel Plug’s hands wandering to his back but he thought it was obvious that his scar was off limits. It still hurt when touched, all these years later, and Rickley is convinced they did something special to it so it would burn when touched. Plug was no exception.

He flinched and took in a breath through his teeth, body jerking forward to get away from the touch. “Ssssorry, it.. i-it hhhurts when t-touched..” though he did appreciated the gesture, it honestly just did more damage than good.

Rickley didn’t want– he didn’t need Rick’s pity for him. Seafoam eyes blinked slowly, unfeeling as Rick spoke about his past. Rickley let out a long breath and shook his head.

“Llllisten… It’s… It’s over o-okay? It’s f-fine.. It’s fine.. I d-didnt die or anything.. Hhhah…” he chewed on his lip harder, making it bleed. “It’s okay, really, b-because aaaat least they like me for th-that… Right? They hate the X R-Rick but /she’s/ still good for that, right? SHE was always a coward anyway, fuck, ffffuck, Rrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiicccck….”  
Why is he doing this to himself.

He gulped and held tightly onto Plug as tears streaked down his face. “I-I-I’m sssorry.. I’m sorry y-you had to.. Y-you d-dun-don’t d-deserve that… It’s mmmy p-punishment.. Not y-yours.”

Oh god, he felt so disgustingly sick inside. It was like whatever that chaotic vision had been made of left a bad taste in the back of his mouth, stuck something dirty under his skin that stung like a thorn.

Rick didn’t feel like himself. He didn’t feel like this was going to be fine at all.

The tightening of back muscle under even the slightest caress stood as a reminder of how sensitive the scarred area between shoulderblades truly was, even after the time that allowed it to heal over. He could… he could understand. See it from the flip side, why it envoked a reaction that bumped their chests together. His wandering hand jumped back like it’d been shocked for its’ disobedience, like he was expecting repercussion. “I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean…”

He swallowed hard, trying to regain some form of self control via rubbing a palm over his eyes hard. It was awfully hard to do that when the unnaturally flat and unfeeling tone Rickley started off with transformed into harsh notes of dysphoric self hatred spoken almost right into his ear, so oddly relatable and emotionally charged. The blood that welled up to pool on the curvature of a bitten lip dribbled down, as vibrant red as the stains on the snow.

“N-no! No, y-you didn’t–” He clenched his teeth before continuing, caging a strained whimper behind them. “Y-you didn’t deserve it.” Rick could feel his arms growing a little tighter around the dip of torso protectively. Like he was trying to prove his point without really knowing how. “N-nobody deserves th-th-that.”

It’d been so fucking awful, the details unspeakable to recount aloud. That was something he’d never wish on his worst enemy, much less be able to imagine happening to… To somebody he cared about so fucking much.

How could anyone ever do that? Rick could only see the senselessness to the violence, the pack mentality used as an excuse to destroy and violate but he couldn’t understand and it churned his insides. “Y-you were good. You’ve always b-been good.”

With a soft sniffle, he pressed the lightest of nervous kisses to a scar on his companions’ wet cheek, petting his hair with touches softened by sympathy.

“I-I don’t know how I know, R-rrrickley, b-but I…" He let out a shaky sigh, nudging closer until their legs tangled. “I-I just… I w-wanna keep you s-s-safe. Always, f-forever…“

He shuddered all over, a thumb dragging over the soft expanse of lower back in slow circles while the other hand ran fingers through windblown locks. "P-please don’t leave m-me.”

As Rick’s hold on his tightened, his frantic breaths became softer with each reassurance. Rickley just wanted this all to end. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay with Plug forever, safe in his arms. He wanted all the pain, all the confusion to go away.

The notion that he had /always been good/ seized his heart up in a death grip and he began to cry harshly, pressing up against Rick for comfort. He knew Rick was wrong about that. He hadn’t /always/ been good. Rick didn’t know about Prime… And if he was lucky he’d keep it that way.

"I’m… Ooohhhh… I’m nnnnot all good… Hhhkk… Hhhhhkk…” he hiccuped between his words as he tried to hold back the tears waterfalling down his face. The softest kisses upon his cheek had him crying out weakly, like an unspoken gratitude towards Rick. He wanted to kiss him back but his lips trembled too much.  
“You make me feel /safe/… But I.. I don’t feel safe here.. I’m sca-scared, Rick… I don’t… I don’t like it here..” he mumbled, pressing to him lightly and shaking his head.

He sighed as the last of his tears trickled down, leaning into Rick’s caring hold. “I’m n-not gunna l-leave you… I don’t w-wanna leave you..” Rickley responded, sniffling and pressing his trembling lips to Rick’s. He gave him a few brief, soft kisses before retreating back to Plug’s chest, pressing his face against it.

“I think w-we should leave h-here… G-go somewhere else… M-maybe this b-beach is just… Cursed or s-something…” Rickley tried to reason quietly, rubbing his eyes. “I d-dont know.. I just… I’m just sc-scared.”

The sounds welling up out of Rickley tugged on the sinewy strings of his heart so hard that Rick swore they were on the verge of snapping. There was just something about his soft cries and hot tears that always got to him so fast - It was like Rickley could crack open his ribs and tug at his soul without even trying.

Every time Rick looked into those baby blues, all starstruck and dazzled, he saw good. How couldn’t Rickley see that he was the best version out of an infinity of them all? The only one worth everything?

Calloused fingertips gently massaged the ragged edges of scars, stilling only at the moment when shaky lips pressed against his own. Things always seemed to balance out when Rickley kissed him, forming an island of peace amongst the choppy waves of uncertainty. The quiet smeck quelled the tremble wracking through his bones, made the tightness in his chest ebb away as anxieties fell with his shoulders.

He released tension with a shaky sigh when he felt the other mans’ face nestle against his sternum, cheeks sticky and wet and the brush of clumped eyelashes ticklish. “I-I don’t wanna leave you e-either, R-Rrrrickley. I-I’ll protect you.” He let his eyes close, trying to memorize how this felt, hold the moment of warmth in his memory. “You’re m-mmmy world.”

God, he meant it. But he couldn’t say he felt the same commitment for this slice of oceanside paradise turned bad.

Rickley was right. Maybe this beach was cursed. They’d faced nothing but misfortune since they came here, hadn’t they? That’s when things became strange, when that sense of vertigo set in, a disorienting sensation that everything was inside out and backwards. That’s - that’s when they started having those tangible dreams.

It… It felt like this place was wrong now, askewed and clouded by a dark memory that was slowly becoming fuzzier in his mind like a fading nightmare.

The gentle lapping waters beyond the horizon suddenly felt intimidating. Rick never wanted to go swimming again.

“Then let’s leave.” The even tempo in his voice was all seriousness, rumbling through smoke damaged vocal chords with conviction. “F-fffuck this beach. I h-hhhate this house. I hate th-the w-eeeeurp-water.” It felt good to say it out loud, to renounce this shitty seaside view. To be on the same page with his companion.

To have a- a plan of action in mind, spinning around at a thousand miles an hour behind shimmery blue eyes.

“R-Rickley. L-listen, hey.” Thumbs swept away trailing tears from beneath tired eyes, a gesture meant to help them cease. “I-I know wuh-what we’ll do.”

The corners of Ricks’ mouth pulled back into the weakest of smiles. One of the ones that was alnost hopeful, instead of secretly so sad. “Let’s - let’s go inland. As far as we can. L-let’s get f-fffar away, R-Rrrrickley.” He gently gripped thin shoulders, trying to translate some of his newfound optimism into the brittle body under his hand. “W-we can go on a roadtrip and - and start aaaall over again, Rickley. Turn a-aaa new leaf. Just Rick and R-Rickley.”

He let out the tiniest laugh. Anything to break the fall of tears. “W-we’ll live far away from everyone a-aaand - and I swear to fuck I-I-I’ll kill anyone who ever tries to hurt you.”

Rick pressed a kiss to Rickleys’ forehead, disguising a stray sniffle. “It’ll - it’ll be better this time. I promise. I-I’ll be better.”

Plug’s gentle hold swathed him in warmth, and his tears slowed with each reassurance. If they really did leave, how could they be sure they wouldn’t wake up back at the house? It was worth a try.

Rickley nodded at the ambitious words. He’d do anything to leave this fucking beach. Shimmering blues looked into Rick’s eyes and he nodded. “I want to leave… I want to start new with you… I love you.. I don’t want to ruin this.”  
Of course he was afraid of ruining everything. This was the first time someone actually got him. Someone actually understood what he was feeling. He didn’t want to fuck it up.

He laughed too, weakly, and pressed up to kiss Rickley’s again, firmly. He wrapped skinny arms around his neck and kissed him for a few more seconds before pulling away, the sweetness of sea salt still on his lips.

“Let’s go, Rick. I n-never liked the water too much anyway. We should l-live in the mountains.. All alone, j-just us… I.. I don’t want to be near anyone else,” his voice wavered at the last sentence. It was kind of embarrassing to him, but he couldn’t trust anyone else but Rick.

Rickley shifted slightly, moving to sit up on the couch. “We should leave now. I don’t want to stay here another m-minute.”

The more that he let himself melt softly into little kisses from Rickley, humming and sighing in appreciation, the more that Rick felt like he was home.

Maybe… maybe it was never the beach that made him feel loose and relaxed all along. It was so obvious now, how could he has missed it? He hated burying toes in the pinkish sand, couldn’t stand the thought of staying by the ocean for one more goddamn day, but he’d been so head over heels that he hadn’t even noticed his growing disdain for the lapping tides until now.

Spindly fingers brushed a stray strand of hair out from in front of Rickleys’ eyes, smoothing it back with tender care. For everything he was worth, he could get lost in those sad blues forever, as icy as the misplaced chill stuck permanently to his bones.

“Then - then l-let’s go, Rickley.“ Right here, right now, today. “Fuck th-this place.” This was the beginning of the end for this shitty strip of seaside, and the start to a new chapter. A brighter one, with better things to come, somewhere up in the green lush of lonesome mountains.

“W-we’ll go anywhere you wanna go, babe.” It was a promise. Wherever they could stand a chance at being undisturbed and happy, they’d make the trek. He just wanted to see that thin frown curl upwards into a smile again, wanted Rickley to be safe and alright. Affirming that thought, Rick pressed a reassuring smooch on soft lips, letting it linger as they threw off the covers to get ready to leave this place once and for all.

It was the same ritual as last time they’d done this. Or had that been a dream, too? It was like tracing steps, the way he rose barren out of the sheets, casting an eye over the shoulder to catch a loving glance at Rickley before unloading the drier. How he pulled on a pastel pink overcoat before gently helping Rickley into his sweater and slacks.

Except this time when they stepped out of the house, thin Rickley supported in arms like precious cargo, they were met with a wave of warmth outside the door. The sunshine was pleasant on the skin, and the waves crashed rhythmatically like the natural patterns of breath; but somehow, deep down, it still all felt unshakably cold. Rick shuddered.

Was that convertible they’d cruised in down to the coast even still drivable? It’d better be. Otherwise he’d had to find another car, and he hadn’t seen one since the last time they’d been hurtling down the highway towards this empty town. “D-don’t worry, Rickley, w-we’ll get there in style.“

The open cabin was full of sand from exposure to the elements, but the red two-door was still faithfully waiting for them high up on the beach. Rick made quick work of settling Rickley in the passenger seat, keeping enough presence of mind to lean over him and disguise the click of a fastening seat belt with a purposeful peck to the cheek. There were some things that he wouldn’t forget, and the mental image of Rickley flinging open a moving vehicle and falling out of it at the cost of his leg was deeefinitely one of them. “R-rrroad safety, Rickley.”

Rick didn’t bother opening the drivers’ side, instead opting to jump straight over and into the bucket seat in one smooth motion. The black interior was oven-hot and the half-drunk beers’ contents in the cup holders were suspicious at best, but the keys were still in the ignition and this baby was going to take them inland, as far away from the goddamn water as humans who’d forgotten the portal gun formula could possibly get.

“Th-this is gonna be great, R-Rickley,” he excitedly encouraged, a grin starting to luminate his features. The engine rumbled to life, and the wheels started rolling. It felt good - no, it felt fucking great to cut ties and bail. And he was doing it with his best friend, his everything. “W-we’re gunna have a great time r-runnin’ around, just - just–”

Resting atop the cetral console, their hands came together harmoniously, knitting fingers into gaps between fingers like tightly woven lace. Thumbs traced over knuckles affectionately, palms squeezing. “Just Rick and R-Rickley, one hundred years road triiiip!”

Rick’s enthusiasm seized him and he couldn’t help the bright smile forming on his lips. Rickley loved to see him like this. When Plug was happy… He was breathless in return.  
“I want to be far away from the water..” he said softly, returning the lingering peck and nuzzling into him as he was carried to the laundry room for there clothes. Soft, tired blues gazed at the pink jacket for a few long moments, a sigh escaping his chest. He didn’t let that get him down though.

Once he finally had his clothes on, which took a lot of help and manuevering from Rick, he looped his arms around his neck as he was carried towards the car. He remembered that day when Plug almost flipped that thing into the sand. It brought a small smile to his face.

The warm sun on his face felt just right, but under his clothes he shivered involuntarily. He chalked it up to the excitement to get away. He knew that wasn’t the real reason though. But he didn’t want to think about that.

Plug’s comment about road safety got a snort of a laugh from Rickley. “S-says the g-guy drinking a b-beer while driving? You’re f-funny… But I’ll h-humor you.”  
Luckily, Rickley didn’t make a move to remove the seatbelt.

A road trip. This was going to be perfect.  
Rickley turned to Plug as they both settled into the car. Those words… 100 years– no, it wasn’t enough.  
“Rick–” he stopped himself with a kiss pressed to Rick’s lips, loving and deep.

“A thousand years, R-Rick… Not just a hundred,” those blues shimmered with happiness as a yellow toothed smile broke on his lips. He squeezed their hands even tighter together. “I love you..”

The soft skin of their bottom lips stuck together with the slightest tug of resistance, as if their very structures were drawn together at the molecular level and the atoms involved therein didn’t really want to part. Rick unintentionally leaned in his seat as if trying to pursue the divine taste of Rickley that had been all too brief–

Before he caught himself and subsequently blushed a noticeable shade of pink, pupils sparkling like twin stars as he gazed back at his passenger, awestruck as always.

“A… aaaa thousand years.”

There was a pleasant ring to that revised version of their mutual promise that Rick couldn’t help but like. A hundred years was too short a time to spend together. Maybe a thousand was more accurate, closer to heart. He couldn’t agree more.

And then there it was: that soul warming smile that he’d been so dearly missing. It brightened up Rickleys’ whole being, made him look like such a different person than the scared face he’d come to know so well in the shadow of prison bars. A happier person.

It really suited him, fit like a glove. He’d do anything to keep seeing the corners of Rickleys’ mouth upturn and his eyes glimmer, follow that grin like a beacon of light in the dark.

It was infectiously uplifting, and Rick found himself mirroring the joviality with an unabashed fondness in his eyes as the cars’ chassis rocked over the sand and wheels hit black asphalt. “God, I - I love you too, R-Rrrrickley.”

__________________

🎶Scar tissue that I wish you saw, sarcastic mister know it all🎶

The speakers built into the convertibles’ doors rumbled under the weight of boosted bass-laiden soundwaves, the floorboards vibrating with every relaxing thump of the Red Hot Chili Peppers playing over the rushing wind.

Gripping the wheel with a genuine smile he’d been holding so long that it made his cheeks ache, Rick sang along out of tune to lyrics he knew by heart.

“🎶Yeah, close your eyes and I’ll kiss YOOOUUU, caaause with the birds I shaaare🎶~”

They’d been on the road for so long that the landscapes had began to blur together like the passage of hours. It was all a lulling pattern of taking curves of the highway in stride, watching the dotted lines pass them by in a dizzying pattern of constant movement, appreciating the clear skies and open road with a newfound sense that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out alright.

🎶with the birds I’ll share this lonely view🎶

As the miles ticked by on the odometer, the line of the sea on the horizon gradually shrunk into the distance until it remained a blue shimmer, a line haunting the back vision;

But that just meant they weren’t there. It felt good to leave that hellhole of a beach behind, place as much distance between them and it as possible. Yeah.

The sunset painting the sky above them was bright and overlaid in a myriad of swirling colors, all orangey-pink in the dimming half light. Rick kept having to remind himself to keep his eyes on the road, fight the temptation to admire how the glow of golden rays played off of Rickleys’ features.

As the last strum of chords ended the song, Rick flicked the volume knob down so that his voice could be heard, rough from belting out songs and laughing.

“Y-you gettin’ tired yet, babe?” Rick asked, snaking his hand into the hold of Rickleys for what must’ve been the hundredth time today.

“M-mmmaybe we should pull over to stretch a-aaand roll another blunt?” He suggested in earnest, then turned and playfully batted his eyelashes at Rickley theatrically. “O-or maybe just so- so y-yyyou can kiss me again?”

This was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Rickley couldn’t remember anything better– just Plug and him, the open road and the convertible playing bomb ass music. Rickley almost felt like his old self. He almost felt like a Rick.

Rickley sang along much quieter, a smile on his face from the way Rick belted out the song. It felt good to have the wind rushing by them as they flew a steady ninety down this abandoned alien highway. Ever since they’d left the seaside he felt much more free, and his heart didn’t feel like a dead weight inside of him.

Enwtined fingers squeezed gently as the radio dial was turned down enough to hear each other, even over the roaring wind that whipped their sun bleached blue hair around, almost enough to be painful. Rickley turned his head and looked at his lover expectantly, adoration swimming in his sea colored eyes. He was getting a little tired but sleep scared him indefinitely. He didn’t want to close his eyes long enough to feel that painful chill again. His cheerful blue eyes faltered a moment before he looked back at Rick.

“N-not too t-tired…” he said, a small smile breaking on his face at Plug’s next request, giggling quietly at the stupidly cute way Rick looked at him, batting his eyelashes and all that. He couldn’t say now to that face, could he?

“I-I’d like that,” Rickley stuttered, a pink tinge spreading across pale skin. He couldn’t believe how Rick could make him blush with the simplest things… Though they hadn’t kissed for a few hours and his lips practically itched in anticipation.

As the car slowed to a stop on the side of the road, Rickley looked over to Rick with weary eyes, tired from the sun. He reached a hand to smooth down Rick’s wild hair, preventing it from falling too much into his face.

Instead of leaning on for a kiss, Rickley unbuckled himself and turned in his seat to pull Rick into his arms, gently resting his face into the crook of his shoulder. He breathed in the scent of cigarettes on Rick’s pink tinted jacket and smiled softly against the fabric. He just continued to hug him like that for a few minutes, not saying anything. It was nice.

After a while Rickley finally pulled away to look up at him with a yellow toothed smile. “I’m r-really happy we’re d-doing this,” he said honestly, sparkling baby blues lighting up in the sun. He seemed so happy, so weightless. Rickley almost looked healthy.

It’d been worth it.

Every harrowing trial and tribulation that they’d struggled through, the hurtles blocking their path at every turn, the darkest days and even darker dreams of cold, cold water – It’d all been worth it for this.

This moment right here.

Everything was impossibly picturesque and perfect as the car gradually slowed to a stop by the side of the highway at some scenic overlook, the lack of wind noise and hum of the radio giving way to an ambiance of insects chirping in roadside grassy fields. The tall blades swayed with the breeze, the orangey hues of fading sunset glistening off of glossy stalks –

But Rick just couldn’t take his eyes off of Rickley. In all the wealth of time they’d spent practically fused at the hip, he didn’t think he’d ever seen Rickley this - this good looking, this full of love for life. That bright, beaming smile could become his new addiction so fast; It put him at ease with more effectiveness than any numbing painkiller or hundred proof liquor he’d ever had.

This was different than those multitudes upon multitudes of drugs swallowed in the hollow pursuit of happiness. Rickley made him feel nothing but warm inside, wholly content, and maybe, just maybe…

Maybe this was that happy ending he never believed in before, the one where everything went right. It had to be.

The thin fingers running through his hair tugged the corners of his mouth into a soft smile. “Hah, h-hey Rickley, what’re you–?”

A set of arms wrapping around his torso wasn’t exactly along the lines of the smooch he’d been expecting, but Rick found himself enjoying it all the same. He leaned into the touch, finding comfort in the presence of a forehead resting against the ridge of a clavicle, the hands gently gripping the fabric of his pastel overcoat. “Mmmm~”

He melted into his touch every time, rendered weak under the slightest show of affection. It was as if Rickley could wrest a reaction out of him that nobody else could, reduce him to putty without ever even trying.

He loved this. He lived for it.

Their chests drew in and out in sublime tandem, eliciting a soft sigh as Ricks’ eyes fluttered closed, hot breath ruffling soft blue locks that tickled his nose. He returned the embrace with an arm curled behind his companions’ shoulders, fingers finding themselves buried in hair, rubbing a gnarled thumb across a patch of baldness. He felt safe. Whole.

Rick pressed a peck temple as they separated, a parting gift. He couldn’t help but grin back twice as wide– Rickley liked this trip? That was a sentiment he could get behind. “Baby, I’m just h-hhhhappy to be with you~“

Eyes half lidded in admiration, Rick cradled the sharp angle of Rickleys chin under an index finger with the utmost care, angling their faces just so. He brushed a thumb over a bottom lip, soft and pink, starry pupils trailing tenderly up the marred details strewn across his lovers’ face. “Hah… you’re my - my goddamn everything, R-Rrrickkey, you know that?“

He leaned just a fraction closer, angling his head ever so slightly to the side; their lips nearly touched when he spoke. “You - you really got me good.”

Rickley hummed softly against his chest, revelling in the gentle embrace that he craved every moment they were together. With every movement, every breath and word and sigh that Rick made… It filled his heart with so much love that it nearly ached. They knew every scar, every detail etched into skin and they came together like a perfect match, the numbers to crack the code of happiness.

That wide smile that Rick gave him when they pulled apart made him dizzy with love and he let out a little breathless laugh at the loving statement that followed. Rickley thought his heart might burst if Rick said anything more.

As his face was lifted slightly by Rick’s calloused fingers, Rickley felt the breath being sucked out of him, pink flooding his sunburned cheeks, making the blush look even more reddened. His breathing slowed and he let out a small noise at the thumb brushing his lips.

Rickley wasn’t good with words. Most of the time his true feelings were revealed in actions, and it wasn’t much different this time. He didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want his small voice to break the perfect atmosphere.

Rick was so close that Rickley was afraid he’d hear how fast and hard his heart was beating. He leaned in to accept the kiss, heart fluttering in happiness as their lips moved together. Rickley melted into his lover like honey, his mind reduced to a lovey dovey gooey mess when connected with Rick like this.

The kisses subsided slowly and Rickley felt his eyes grow heavy with sleepiness. They were away from the beach– far away, and now they could finally rest properly. Rickley curled against Rick, face relaxing easily as the night overtook them, stars sparkling in the deep purple skyscape.

Rickley let his eyes slip closed as he cuddled into Rick, feeling warm and safe and content. Feeling loved.

This roadtrip had been the best decision the two of them had ever made. It was like they left all of their fomer worries back at the beach, eager to be forgotten. They’d never been so completely free, just Rick and Rickley for a thousand years, driving away from their problems.

Sure, he might be slightly delerious after spending all day behind the wheel, but shit, Rick didn’t think that he’d ever felt more at home than out here, in the middle of nowhere. Rickley just had that kind of effect on him, the kind that made these tender kisses so good.

Maybe… maybe Rickley was ‘home’. A person instead of a place. That’s why he felt like he could unwind and relax, really let his guard down once and for all.

Yeah, this was - this was perfect. They could lay back just like this, recline in the safety of one anothers’ warmth. Forget about everything else for a few precious minutes, let the good vibes sink in alongside little heartfelt kisses…

Maybe they could afford to rest for a little while, soak it in just long enough to close heavy eyelids and revel in the curves of a familiar body curled against his under a sky full of stars.

After all, they were only harmless dreams.

Dreams that came back in abstract feelings and soundscapes, a frozenness in his body that burned as if he was set aflame. It felt like pins and needles were being viciously driven into the parts of his skin that somehow still retained the ability to feel, the other half of his body beneath the water line numbed into nothingness.

“Nnn…nnnn…”

It was the same strange dream as before, a repetitive hell. There was the helplessness, the familiar fear of knowing ones own vulnerability coupled with suffocating claustrophobia –

And then it all dissapeared as quickly at it had come, fading away into another bad memory that he’d never be able to shake. The pain, the crippling exhaustion gripping his being, the hypothermic black water, everything too real was just…

Gone.

It was warm here. Soft and warm.

Letting out a shuddering breath of relief, Rick blinked open his bleary eyes a fraction of an inch, squinting against the midmorning light filtering in through the living room window in golden pillars of too-bright sunbeams.

“Tuh-turn that off,” he slurred incoherently, groaning in displeasure as he pulled up the covers to shield his exposed eyes. “Five muh-more minutes.” He tucked his brow under the gloriously fluffy comforter where it was safe and dark. It smelled like laundry detergent and Rickley and seasalt.

W… wait.

That wasn’t right.

The realization blindsided him with all the gentleness of being hit by a truck. A jolt of adrenaline pulsed through his tangled up limbs, kicking a disoriented Rick out of his half sleep and into a tense stillness. Was that… the sound of waves crashing on the shore just outside? “R-Rrrrickley…?”

His voice came out softened and small, strangulated by the vicelike grip of visceral dread as his brain skidded to a halt mid thought, wildly trying to backtrack in an attempt to figure out what the fuck happened. The body intertwined with his in the best of blankets was sandy and bare, just as they’d been before they’d spontaneously up and left this god awful place.

But that - this wasn’t possible! Hadn’t they driven as far as they could away from this town? Shouldn’t they be hundreds of miles from the shoreline by now, headed up into the mountains like they’d planned on?

Was this a dream? Had that been a dream?

He didn’t know what to think anymore. Rick jolted upright on the couch, breath hitching as his mouth hung open in abject horror and wide-eyed confusion.

They were in the same beach house.

At the same oceanside shoreline.

Like they’d never even moved.

He’d been though a hundred bad trips, lived through horrifying situations first hand that would plague the most stable of minds, but this?

He couldn’t take it.

Rick lost his shit.

Veiny, trembling hands reached up and clapped flat palms to either side of his temples, fingers curling to tug harshly at his messy mop of sea dampened hair –

And he screamed. “AaaaaaaaAAAAAAAHHH R-RrrrrRRRRICKLEEEEY!“

The panic squeezing his ribcage constricted his breath, making his usually calm voice jump up to an uncharacteristicaly high octave. Every word came out wild and desperate as he reached over and shook his lovers’ shoulder with an unmistakable urgency.

“W-wuh-wuh-WAKE UP, Rrrrickley!” He panted. “I-i-it’s–” His stutter was kicking in. Bad. “W-w-w-we’re at the–!”

Everything had seemed to be going just right– they were on their way to the cool mountains hundreds of miles away from that forbidden shoreline. He was gently tucked into the crook of Rick’s arm as they easily drifted off into the lush twilight around them. The dreams didn’t matter– they were okay now.

But their freedom took a 180 turn. That unmistakable chill was back, and Rickley let out a pitiful noise as he tried to move in that dark, cold chamber. Why did it hurt so much? Why did it feel so goddamn real?  
What really hurt was moments later, being jolted awake by a scream and large hands shaking his shoulders. Rickley squinted and looked around, shocked and terrified to find them back in that fucking cursed beach house. Wild blue eyes stared up at Plug and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move–

When he caught his voice it raised into a shrill scream and morphed into a word being repeated, “NonononNONONONONONONONONO!!!!” Rickley’s face had gone red from lack of air and tears were waterfalling down his scarred cheeks. He was crying so hard that blood began to seep down from his nose, dripping onto his lips.  
Rickley nearly ripped the blanket off of him when he found himself able to move. He fell to the ground with a hard thump and crawled around, ignoring Rick. His eyes scanned the house. It was the same exact fucking place.

Rickley could not do this. He couldn’t comprehend this. He curled onto the floor, smacking his head violently against the wood. It was almost as if he’d reverted back to an older version of himself– unable to handle anything remotely stressful.  
Crimson beads streaked down Rickley’s face and hair as he finally collapsed in exhaustion, chest contracting tightly with despair. He felt dizzy and everything was so far away… Where was he again?

He brokenly called out for Rick.

This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real.

Every shred of deductive reasoning that respectively made Rick his universes’ smartest scientist collectively protested against the incalculable impossibility, mental effort furrowing his brows as he crunched the numbers behind them in the search for an explanation. “H-hhh-how did w-we-? H-h-how the FUCK-?!“

The view beyond the window lead out to the same desolate shoreline ebbing and flowing with that same predictable pattern, the floorboards creaked in the same places when he stumbled out of the blankets and across the room in a daze;

He moved like he was punch drunk, or nauseated by vertigo. His stomach was doing flips and he felt like someone put the fried remains of his sad excuse for a burnt-out brain through a blender.

This shouldn’t be happening, but it was.

It just didn’t make sense. It wasn’t scientifically possible for them to be here. He could recount the last twenty four hours in perfect detail, remember the wind whipping through his clothes and the radio bumping his favorite tunes - so why they were back in this place?

That’s when it sunk in. Rick quietly came to the horrifying concusion that he… he wasn’t in control of this.

He couldn’t look at it straight on, couldn’t dissect it, pick it apart until he found out the way it worked and forcibly bend it to his will, because he didn’t understand what the fuck was happening.

And that was scarier than fucking anything.

The space between his ringing ears felt like it was full of hazy cotton, the struggle with an inability to make sense of his surroundings leaving Rick dumbfounded and unresponsive to the chaos playing out behind him. His gaze was focused on a shaking hand - his shaking hand - reaching out and turning the doorknob, calmly letting the front door swing inwards on its’ own accord. He stood stock still in the treshhold and stared across the beach unblinkingly, letting the smell of brine on the breeze wash over him.

That voice he’d come to know so well chimed in with a string of terrified NOs that echoed through the house dischordantly, playing off the fragments of Ricks’ shattered sanity in the worst ways, aggravating this torturous, crippling sense of disillusionment;

The pent up overabundance of emotion building as a pressure in his head manifested outwardly in a surge of uncontrollable anger.

“Th-this isn’t fair,” He hissed sharply, pulling at the windswept locks of his hair with fingers curled into white-knuckled fists. “This isn’t – FUCK! FUCK YOU!“ He screamed out at the tides, tendons in his neck showing under strain. ”FUCK YOU! A-AAAND FUCK THIS FFFFUCKING HOUSE!”

Channeling rage into the first thing he saw, Rick slammed the door shut with enough brunt force to rattle the warped wooden frame of the beach house down to its’ shitty stilted foundations. He hated this place so fucking much that he wanted to destroy it, beat it down any way he could – so he did it again, and again, and again–

Until one of the loose hinges snapped and the bottom corner of the door thunked to the ground.

“FUUUUCK!” He followed up the last lungful of breath by delivering a solid kick to the wood, throat already gone raw from hurling curses of frustration at nothing but thin air. He wheezed in oxygen, trying to regain some self control alongside fresh breath.

After all of that, he didn’t feel even an ounce better.

The sudden silence wreaked by a lack of screaming and sobs and wood striking wood was unnerving. Reality was far away and he was here and it was happening and he just had to deal.

Drawing the back of a hand over the plane of his forehead glistening with sweat, he turned around panting from exhertion –

Just in time to watch Rickleys’ head collide with the floor. The entirety of the scene mirrored back in the shiny surface of Ricks’ widened eyeballs in slow motion, a play by play of split skin and battered bone.

Crrk!

His knees went weak.

Concussion, skull fracture, bruise. The various possibilities ran through his mind in cold fact before he even got the chance to react. “R-Rrrrickley, stuh-stop.“

They were just like they’d been before, back when they were frightened people caged like animals behind bars. Rickley was a martyr image of self inflicted pain utilized as a coping mechanism, an extreme reaction meant to deflect the problems at hand, and him?

He couldn’t feel anything, all drowned in grey. Rickley might’ve drowned him.

He could see it all: how that delicate face streaked in blood and tears would cut his heart out of his chest in an instant, flay his ribs wide the fuck open if he didn’t –

Compartmentalize. Shove it down. Take the pain and use it like a shield.

Grinding the butt of a palm over the drastically worn wrinkles of a face that aged five years in three minutes, Rick squeezed every last ounce of emotion into a bottle rather than let it show. The him with feelings who stupidly wore his heart on his sleeve was a goner. The version of himself that felt nothing, the Rick that maintained a separation between emotion and self - that was the one who stood a goddamn chance.

Face contorted into an unreadable nothingness, Rick dropped to his creaky knees and threw arms around the smaller mans’ shoulders, drawing him into a protective embrace that might’ve been too tight.

“I’m - I’m here, R-Rrrrickley,” he assured in deadpan. There was a strange emptiness in the way he seemed to stare straight past everything, how the corners of his mouth drew down into a frown of concentration. Like he was trying to hide something under the flat expression. “I-I-I’ve got you.”

He leaned his frail counterpart back and wiped Rickleys’ scarred forehead in an effort to clear it of red rivulets, only smearing the sickly color across pale skin.

“D-don’t worry, R-Rickley. W-we–” he swallowed hard to keep his tone even. “This is - this is fine. W-we’re gonna get back i-in the car a-aaand - and drive farther this time.” Yeah, that would work. It was a plan. It was something.

“C-come on,” he urged, giving opposite shoulders a light shake in an attempt to rouse bloodied Rickley from this state of terror. “L-listen, Rickley. I-IIII won’t fall asleep. I’ll s-ssstay awake all night, R-Rickley. I’ll m-m-make sure we get there, Rickley. Trust me.”

The screaming from Rick didn’t aid him in any way. Rickley sobbed even louder at the sound of the slamming door, rumbling the wicked house on its foundation. He turned his blood streaked face up, sobbing as Rick screamed at the tides that had been so comforting only a mere few days ago.  
He dropped his face back down to the floor, fingers splaying across salt-streaked wooden panels as dark crimson splattered on the floor beneath him. His tears mixed in with the blood as he stared down, hair covering his face. He wished he could just die.

Colors blurred together and he gripped onto Rick, burrowing his face into his shoulder as the blood trickled down. Rick’s warped voice invaded his ears and he pressed his hand to them, everything just way too loud and bright. “F….fffarther..” he repeated, struggling to hear him clearly. Rickley clung to him desperately as images spun around him in a dull haze. Where were they going again?  
“G-get where..?” he whimpered, “I hhhate it h-hhhere…” Rickley wept between words; there was no where for them to go. It was as if some sort of god was watching them. They couldn’t hide because the god saw it all. No matter what they did, they’d be dragged back to this… This hell.

Rickley couldn’t hear Rick in his voice. A hollow shell was talking to him… A robot. Unfeeling. God.

Confused and afraid, Rickley’s blood shot baby blues stared up, and he shook his head slowly, voice straining. “D-don’t.. Don’t y-you d-dare… do this t-to me a-a-again… please…”  
Rickley shook his head again, “Don’t y-yooou dare l-leave mmme… Where is m-my R-Rick? Wh-where did hhhhhe ggguh-go?” Why was he doing this? Why was he hiding? He cried more, letting go of Rick’s shoulders and slumping slightly and pressing his face into his hands.

A few moments passed before he blacked out, the pain too much for the smaller to bear. His body shivered and trembled with each second that he was under, as if his body was stricken in terror.

This must be purgatory.

Maybe… maybe back when they made their daring escape from the prickson, they hadn’t really made it out after all. It had been too good to be true all along - another mysterious Rick voluntarily helping them both get out of that hellhole? Fat fucking chance.

Maybe after they’d crawled inside of those inconspicuous body bags in a last ditch attempt to bypass security, that had been it. They’d either quietly suffocated within minutes or burned up instantly in an incinerator, and this awful place was where their damned souls ended up - Trapped in some kind of repititious limbo.

How else could they explain having woken up back here undisturbed again, like some kind of fucked up Groundhog Day?

Maybe that was why everything felt so far away, why Rickley seemed distant even while he quaked in terror under his own fingertips. Rick was so unbearably numb inside that he could barely feel the warmth of the hands gripping his shoulders slipping away, could hardly bear the twinge of guilt between his ribs that coincided with the hysteria in Rickleys’ begging.

If he just kept pretending this was okay, he could pull them through this. Just like he had before. Just like he had to now.

Rick stared back into the bloodied face before him with his jaw set firm, trying to ignore how those cries made his insides feel all hollowed out and open, like he’d been gutted. “I’m right h-here.” His tone was flat, informative and void of emotion. “It’s o-oookay.”

This was a nightmare, one he couldn’t wake up from. He could see through it all like sheer fabric and his position of helplessness was killing him and he couldn’t let it show. Not for a second. “I-I’m not going anywhere, R-Rrrrrrickley.“

He wasn’t here. This wasn’t happening.

It worked like some kind of fucked up lullaby - or maybe it didn’t. Rick couldn’t tell what was what anymore. All he knew was that Rickley balled up and slowly eased into unconsciousness, scared and shuddering and silent.

It was better than the sobbing. Anything was better than the sound of Rickley so goddamn frightened.

“It’s - it’s gonna be ffff-fine, Rickley.”

_______________

The hours ticked by in increasingly agonizing lethargy.

Then again, time was a flimsy concept at best. It was impossible to equate just how long he’d spent gripping the steering wheel by the glowing numbers on the dashboard clock - because there was no way that in this unreal pocket dimension that those had any basis in fact. After drinking more than a half dozen tallboy beers, smoking his way through four packs of menthol cigarettes, and indulging in more than a few other questionable substances, Rick was convinced of that much.

He’d been at this for a while, though. Sheer willpower urged him mindlessly onward, idly drinking and driving as far away from the beach as he could in an autonomous daze. His hands felt stiff and arthritic from having curled his fingers so tight around the wheel that his knuckles turned white, his bloodshot eyes burned because he kept forgetting to blink, and he hadn’t even noticed that the radio had been repeating the same song for who knew how long.

🎶alright alright alright alright alr🎶

The only thing that interrupted the monotony of black skies broken by streetlights passing overhead in blurs of blinding illumination was the slightest movement from the body double-strapped into the passenger seat beside him, signaling the faintest beginnings of consciousness.

He’d been driving alone in silence so long that Ricks’ voice was hoarse when he spoke up. “Y-yhhou up, R*UUURP*-Rrrrrickley?”

The drunken slur embedded in his voice and the way he slouched I’m his seat said it all. “I-IIII told you w*eeeugh*-we’d - I’d drive us f-farther, R-Rickley.“

He looked like shit, all black dark circles outlining his red eyes and tussled hair that looked like it’d been yanked on. Rick was almost wobbling where he sat, either out of exhaustion or intoxication or both.

At least it was justifiable. He’d been up all day and all night, just staring ahead, pressing his foot down on the pedal and doing god knows what on the breaks in between. “W*EEEUP*-w-we’ve gotta be a-almost there, Rrrrickley. Dhhhon’t you- don’t you even worry uh-bout nothin’, babe, w-we’re Gucci.”

Rickley’s unconscious mind was plagued by the feeling of a billion cold needles jabbing into his skin, breaking him down as he felt water wash over his face again…and again. God, the water was so dark, so impossibly black that the only way he could tell the difference between the water and the walls of the chamber was the temperature.

When he finally came to, he could feel the wind whipping his hair across his face from the open window next to him. Rickley opened his eyes slowly before turning to look at Rick at the sound of his name. He didn’t respond, only looking down at the floor of the car and reaching for a baggie of some pink powdery substance… Looked like synthetic k-lax. Though the double seatbelts stopped him, which cause him to close his eyes in irritation.  
Why did Rick do this every time?

God, what was he, a fucking child?  
Rickley moved his hands to undo both belts, noting that Rick wasn’t even wearing one. He leaned down for the k-lax, ignoring Rick’s voice until he managed to somehow snort up the shit with an old straw that was left on the dashboard.

His head spun and he dropped the empty baggie to the ground, pressing his forehead to the dash, right above the glove compartment. “Ffffffuuuuckk….” Rickley slammed a hand roughly down onto the center console, letting out a frustrated yell.  
“Rrrick, wwhy the fuck can’t you just be hoonest wwith me? Wh-what’s your problem? Y-you never fucking c-cared about safety b-before I l-lost my leg,” he turned to stare accusingly at him.

“J-juh-just– pull the car over Rrrrick..” he said brokenly, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palm. If he wanted Rick to take him seriously… He couldn’t cry. As soon as they pulled off the road and the car turned off, Rickley turned in the seat to stare at him with tinted blue eyes. Pink powder was smeared across his cheek to his nose. Slender hands moved to grip Rick’s shoulders tightly.  
“You nuh-need to stop treating m-me like a damn ch-child… You’re a-acting like the ffffucking child here!” Rickley hissed, nails gripping harshly into skin. “Sometimes I juh-just don’t understand yyyou. You need to stop hiding..”

Rickley couldn’t stop the tears that streamed down his cheeks. “God… D-dammit, fuck you Rrrrick…” he choked, hands loosening and sliding down. He pressed his head into Rick’s chest, just crying. “I j-just can’t trust y-you when you h-h-hide so much from me. Wh-what else have you lied about?”  
“God you–”

Rickley’s anger returned in a flash, and he pushed Rick back against the car door. He crawled to get on top of him and raised his hand to smack him hard across the face.  
“You probably d-don’t even love me!”

Another smack.  
“Stop lying to me!”

Smack.  
“Your little child toy is talking back for once!”

Smack.

Out of all the things he could’ve expected out of Rickley as he came out of sleep - general confusion? a groggy question of how far they’d made it? - a grab for his k-lax stash wasn’t exactly one of them. But what really got his attention was - was the jolt of panic in his chest when he heard both of his seatbelt buckles clicking undone. “H-hey, wait! Rrrrickley, put those b-back–“

It was too late to protest. Rickley was free in the seat and he hopped on those glittery pink drugs so fast that he couldn’t even get the a full sentence out before hearing that telltale sniffffff, the one he’d come to intimately know after a lifetime of addiction. That was - that was a lot of fucking k-lax for somebody with a questionable tolerance. Rick almost hit the brakes right then and there. “Duh-did you just snort the - the whole th–?!”

BANG! A fist came down on the center console hard enough to rattle the empty beer cans in the cup holders. The hands on the steering wheel gripped tighter as Ricks’ body went ridgid, mouth pressed into an unflinching flat line. He almost let it slip into a frown - he was just so taken aback by Rickleys’ change in attitude, his usually meek and mild voice drenched in such startlingly undiluted anger that he damn near swerved out of this lane and into the oncoming one.

But that wasn’t what shook him to the core, sent the coldest of chills lancing down his spine. It was the question that followed, the accusatory nature of speech that insinutated that Rickley -

That Rickley had caught on to that unspoken something that Rick had been avoiding since day one. He’d started putting two and two together. The correlation between the missing leg, the infatuation with seatbelts, the fact that they never talked about how the injury came to be. Ever.

“I-I…” he floundered, mind racing at a hundred miles an hour behind glassy eyes. “W-who’s got a problem? I-IIII don’t have a-aaa problem.“

This was getting tense. Maybe… maybe it was best that he followed Rickleys’ instructions and pulled over for a minute. He was positive that his passenger was imminently about to burst into tears, break down right here on the highway, and he’d sure as fuck learned his lesson about how panic attacks and moving vehicles didn’t mix.

“O-okay.” Things seemed to move in slow motion as the wheels rolled to a gradual stop on the shoulder, and Rick simply stared ahead blankly as he put the parking brake on and turned the key in the ignition. He could handle this. He could do this.

Detach. Don’t over analyze, don’t think at all. Stay numb.

That mantra was awfully hard to hang on to when Rickley wasn’t acting like himself. He couldn’t recognize the way he looked at him like that, so furious and -

And lunging across the cab to grab his shoulders and forcibly turn him at attention, thin fingers digging nails into the meat of his shoulders. They pinched skin through fabric hard enough to leave half moon dents, but Rick hardly flinched as he stared wide-eyed and silent into Rickleys’ face contorted in rage. Had he ever seen him so angry? Every sharp syllable thrown in his face made his chest feel tighter, like he was caught in a vice.

Maybe he hadn’t been honest. Maybe he was childish. Maybe Rickley was right.

Despite all his efforts to hold his own, Rick could feel his facial muscles twitching as they strained to maintain a neutral expression under pressure, threatening to fail him when he needed this mask the most. He couldn’t afford not to hide. Who knew what was underneath?

God damn it, fuck you, Rrrrrick.

He… he’d never heard Rickley curse at him like that before. Not even as part of a joke. The stabbing feeling in his stomach tweaked his brow upwards ever so slightly - Or maybe that was just an instinctual tug of sympathy in return of those fat tears streaking down flushed cheeks.

The head coming to rest against his chest made him let out a shuddering sigh. What was he even supposed to say? Maybe if he just ran fingers through his hair to calm Rickley down, it’d get better. But it didn’t.

What else had he lied about? The question made him tense. If lying fell under the category of avoiding the subject, keeping it roped off, the answer was too much. Too fucking much. “I-I just - I can’t, I can’t t-talk, I–”

The excuses didn’t fucking cut it.

Rickley flipped like a switch. One moment he’d been sobbing into his chest, and the next he was on top of him. That shove backwards was beyond anything Rick would’ve thought his alternate was capable of, and it took him off guard and - and in mere seconds, Rickley was straddling him in the seat, pinning against the door in a position of vulnerability and–

SLAP!

The open hand practically richocheted off of his cheek, leaving a bright red hand print in its place that stung like fire. He hasn’t seen it coming. He never would’ve even imagined it’d happen.

The blows rained down mercilessly, one after the other, and he was too stunned to even make a sound. He couldn’t move, couldn’t resist, could hardly bear to breathe. In a last ditch effort, he tried to push back farther into himself, shelter behind a blank expression, but it didn’t work.

How could it? It wasn’t possible to ignore the weight sitting on top of his chest, trapping him here while he lay slumped in the drivers seat without doing so much as raising his arms to defend himself. He just took the punishment, let the harsh words ring in his ears, wild eyes coming in and out of focus. This felt familiar. Too familiar.

His lip started to run, having split against his teeth, a droplet of red trailing over his chin. He could see that hand hanging in the air, poised above and ready to come down and strike him again and again and–

“S-sss-SSSTOP!”

There was a break in Ricks’ voice that sounded inherently weak, very much unlike the tough persona he projected. He may have finally found his voice amidst the chaos, but it was strained and breathless as he struggled to pull himself together after that onslaught of strikes. The ones from Rickley. His one and only Rickley.

With shaky movements, he brought fingers up to gingerly touch his bright red cheek, bewilderment in his cracking tone. “Y-yyy… you hhhhit me, I-I-I…” He stuttered, looking up at his alternate with unblinking eyes full of confusion and guilt and… pricks of wetness welling up to the surface. Maybe Rickley had broken through his shell after all. Maybe he’d punched a hole clean through it.

“Hhhh-hhhh.” Rick started choking up. It was like the words got stuck between his face and above his throat, scraping at his trachea every time he tried to open his mouth. He tried to swallow, lick his lips to wet them, anything to dislodge the lump in his throat.

He took a sharp breath in, and then it all came out at once in a rush of half-hysteric breath.

“I’ll t-tell you! I-I’ll tell yyyou. I’m ssssorry, I’ll t-tell you, baby, I-I love y-y-you.“

The way he said it, you’d think he was being held at gunpoint instead of beneath twiggy arms that could wreak only so much damage. But they weren’t what he was afraid of.

“D-d-don’t leave me, baby. Please d-don’t leave me.” He begged, sniffling hard. “It - It hhhhhng w-w-was my fault. It was mmmmy fault, Rrrrickley, I’m s-sssorry.” His voice waivered, like he was trying his damndest not to cry. "I’m sssorry, I-IIIII just - I didnt w-w-wwwanna be alone again.”

Rickley didn’t even realize how fast he hit him, how each strike rang out in the stale air of the cabin, the smell of smoke tickling his nose. His palms stung and he slumped slightly when he heard the man beneath him cry out– beg for it to stop.

The emotions inside Rickley ravaged his soul, ripping him apart with a fucked up satisfaction lined with heart wrenching guilt. He hadn’t hit anyone like that since Prime. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be in love. Maybe they weren’t good for each other. Maybe he was just too fucking high.

Rickley sat in shock at himself, this burden of lost trust shaking him to his core. He couldn’t fully comprehend what he’d just done– the gravity of the situation and the onslaught of terrified voices in his head didn’t help. Rick’s fear didn’t register.

Rickley moved back to the passenger seat, pressing his hands to his sides and hugging himself.  
“I-I-I’m n-not guh-gonna l-l-leave y-you..” he stammered, shaking his head slightly. He didn’t look up at Rick, too afraid to see those red stricken cheeks, to afraid to see the tears that he knew would be there, no matter how strong Rick thought he was.  
Sorry couldn’t cut it. So Rickley didn’t bother.

Instead, he reached for a beer from the back seat and popped the seal, closing his eyes as he drank as much as he could in one go. Tears streamed down his face but they seemed put of place. Rickley didn’t look sad he just looked– numb.

“Not gonna l-leave you… Just.. W-w-want you to b-be honest…” He took another long drink of the beer, nearly finishing it off then and there. A hand reached for another, prepared to get its owner so wasted that he’d forget everything.

“Uuhgg… S-sssorry I used uuup all ttthe k-lax…” he mumbled, turning to look out of the window. He tossed the empty beer bottle out of the window and it smashed on the side of the road. He opened up the other one.

Rickley’s face was flushed and emotionless. “Do we… Dddo w-we hhhave anything s-stronger thaaaan beer?” he asked, turning to look in the back seat. His voice wavered slightly as he attempted to hide the true despair he felt. “Wwhhere’s the cigarettes?” he asked before he found a pack in the glove compartment, pulling one out and lighting it. He took a long drag. Damn he was tired.  
“I, uh, l-love you..” he said softly.

It hurt. Oh god, it hurt.

Even after Rickley returned to his side of the car and Rick slowly, shakily sat back up, he couldn’t… He couldn’t get his breathing to even out, couldn’t find his bearings or - or figure out why that’d just happened. What did he do? Where did he go wrong?

Who was he kidding? He did everything wrong. It should be obvious by now that he was a royal fuckup, considering that there wasn’t a single thing he hadn’t complicated for Rickley along this series of misadventures. From failing to protect him when he was defenseless to causing that horrible accident that cost him his leg, his quality of life - Holy fuck, Rickley had every right to be mad. 

Rick put his face in his hands, shoulders bunching. God damn it, why did he have to be such a fucking letdown idiot?

“Hhhng, hnnnn…” He tried to bite his lip to stop it from quivering, stop the barely audible erratic whimpering in a failing battle to contain himself. He squeezed his eyes closed and grimaced, holding his breath to cage stray sounds inside his lungs instead, tensing when he felt his shoulders jump and diaphragm constrict in what would be sobs, if only he let them;

But he had to exhale sometime, quaking in his seat as he did so. “Hhhhhhhng.”

What was happening to him? He was supposed to be the strong one out of the two of them, always level headed and unshaken by the worst of everything. The one who had it together no matter what happened.

And yet, all it took to smash those solid walls into pieces was a couple of open-handed strikes from Rickley that… That shouldn’t be hurting nearly as much as they did, shouldn’t be causing this kind of excruciating pain between his ribs.

The moisture pooling heavily in his vision was growing too thick to see anything clearly anymore, turning the interior of the car into vague shapes illuminated by florescent streetlamps. He turned his face away from his passenger, slumping forward with arms folded on the steering wheel and his head down. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Nothing made sense. His cheeks stung, throbbing in time with his fluttery heartbeat. It didn’t feel like his own face, somehow. This didn’t feel like his own body, like he was in somebody elses’ skin as a bystanding spectator. He felt hot and cold and awake and tired while at the same time feeling nothing at all, and when he curled his fingers into his hair he felt like it was somebody elses’ locks that he was on the verge of ripping out.

God damn it. He was so fucking stupid.

Khh-chh. That familiar hiss of carbonation was like a lighthouse beacon in the dark, a shining ray of hope. Beer, oh sweet beer. The urge to grab the nearest alcoholic thing he could aided Rick the willpower to pick his forehead up off of the steering wheel and drag a hand over his face roughly, trying to force himself back to normal. Come on. Pull it together. 

He leaned back in his seat, grinding a palm into his eye socket with gratuitous force. Fuck, he wished he could just drop dead here. Filling himself full of cheap beer and smoking until his lungs were black would have to suffice. An arm reached back and grabbed a beer from the pack, and he mumbled, “gimme a-aaa cig" without ever raising his eyes to look at Rickley directly. Like he wasn’t worth enough to equate to eye contact.

He raised the alcohol to his lips, depending on the strength it gave him to speak. “I-I’ll, I’ll be hhhh-honest, b-babe.” There was still that fucking tremble in his vocal chords, the one that made him so goddamn shitty. “I-I’ll be wwww-whatever you *sniff* w-want.” He turned his reddened, tear-streaked face towards Rickley and forced a smile that was anything but genuine. His eyes were empty. Out of touch. It was bullshit and he knew it and Rickley knew it and Rickley must hate him. That’s why he didn’t look back. 

At least Rickley said he still loved him. For that much, Rick could pretend like he didn’t mind the searing handprints glowing on his swollen cheeks, could turn away when he felt a tear start to roll. “Y-yeah. I…. I lllove you, R-Rrrrickley. I’d, I’d still love you with y-your hands around mmmy neck.”

With that, Rick tipped the drink back and chugged as much of it as he could in one go, desperate for anything to further disconnect him from being here. “I’m ssssorry I’m such a piece of shhhhit, y’know.” He callously stated, the faintest hint of a humorless grin arcing across his lips. “Hah, I-I know it’s, I know it’s not fair, it’s…”

His shoulders jumped in quick succession, and he ran a hand through his hair as an excuse to disguise his face behind a bent arm. He couldn’t stand being seen like this. He wanted to hide away forever and never come out. “Nnn-ngh.”

If he was going to make it a second longer, if he was going to get through this, he needed something else. He needed a fix. He needed - he needed– 

“G-glove compartment. G-get the- get the needles out a-aaaand I’ll tell you w-w-what hhhappened.” 

No matter how much Rickley wanted to be, he just wasn’t cut out to put on a brave face and act like everything was okay. He’d destroyed everything, smashed their bond in a moment of anger and impulse and he wished vehemently that he could just go back a few minutes.

He handed the cigarette to his partner while staring straight ahead, face draining of color. He puffed the cigarette nervously, lips shaking as he pressed it to his mouth. God, what was Rick saying? He couldn’t hear anything behind the blood rushing in his ears, the crushing feeling of guilt that held him in a death grip. When had Rickley ever kept his cool? Why did he have to now?

He couldn’t– that much was obvious when the empty beer bottle slipped from his hands to the floor of the cabin. He could feel the telltale burning behind his nose that tears were coming. Not just any tears– burning, remorseful tears that a induced a panic inside of him that threatened the break through. He stared at his hands with pure hatred in his eyes, hatred for himself and for everything that he’d done. God, why was he even still alive?

Rickley’s breath hitched as he felt quiet come over them, and he rubbed his damp eyes and finally registered what Rick had said. Trembling fingers moved to open the glove compartment and pull out the syringes, gently setting them on the center console between them. Too afraid to touch Rick, to even look at him.

He waited a few moments before sighing, taking a deep breath before he spoke. He didn’t turn to look at him, but his tone was deadly serious despite the shakiness. “R-Rick… If… If I eeeever t-touch y-y-you like tthhhatt agaiin… Hhhhhnnngg..” Come on Rickley, keep it together… “Yyyou gotta… R-rrrrun… A-as fffast as y-you c-can and d-duh-don’t look b-back…”

Tears waterfalled down his pale cheeks. His eyes stung as he took another desperate hit of his cigarette, fingers shaking so badly that he nearly dropped it. “W-we don’t kn-know each other a-as w-well as we ttthhought a-a-and… Youuu d-don’t know… I n-never told y-you about P-P-Prime and I’m… I’m ssssssorrry I n-n-n-never… Mmmmeant to hurt you like that I d-don’t.. I don’t know w-what happened… God.. God.. Oh ggggod….”

Rickley felt like he couldn’t breathe and he grabbed yet another beer to drown out the tears and guilt. He guzzled it down like the alcoholic he was and made desperate noises to stop the fucking tears that slid down his reddened cheeks.

“Don’t let m-me tttouch you… I d-don’t want to hhhhurt you…” he sobbed through swigs, the hysteria setting in quicker than the alcohol could work. “I nnnnever thought I w-would hhhit anyone a-again… ‘specially nnnnot y-you b-b-b-because I looove yyyou so fuucking mmuch… I don’t want to h-hurt you Rrrrick…”

It was a desperate plea, spoken from alcohol burned lips. A plea for forgiveness, a plea for Rick to somehow understand that he didn’t want to hurt him. It didn’t excuse the fact that he did. It never would. It would be burned in their minds forever. And Rickley knew it.

Twin points of cigarette smoke spiraled upwards and away, trailing ghostly whisps over thin trembling fingers and brows furrowed in unbearable stress. The steady draw in and out of nicotine was the only pacer between hitches in breath and poorly disguised sniffles that neither of them could afford to either deny or acknowledge. 

The two of them, they were - they were sad shadows compared to the happy people they’d been only a day ago. Shit, they’d been though everything together. The good and the bad. From being trapped in a cage and marked for death to terrible unspoken accidents to ominous nightmares becoming real, they’d stuck close through it all. Side by side. 

But right now, after all that? They’d never been this fucking distant, this somber, this dysfunctionally incapable of even casting a meager glance over at each other. It was like something was different now, askew in the dynamic, an innate sense of wrongness. Like a jigsaw piece fallen out of place. 

Rick couldn’t stand the weakness in his companions’ tone, even if it did sound distorted in his ears, like everything was filtering through a wall. It made him feel so goddamn cold inside. Not even the heat of the smoke swirling in his lungs could make him feel anything except inherently, incurably hollowed out and empty. 

“Hah, R-Rrrickley… Y-you know I w-wwwwouldnt leave you, r-right?” He started unsteadily, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a flinch at how his own voice sounded. “I-I couldn’t, babe. N-nnno matter what.” He exhaled shakily, trying not to focus on the hot swaths of his sore face. Every time he did, the wateriness in his field of sight got worse. He just felt so… 

Out of step. Out of touch, like a torn chest.

Drawing in a long drag on his rapidly shrinking cigarette, Rick tried setting his jaw firm so that his lip wouldn’t shake. The glowing red cherry illuminated his face from below, dramaticizing the shadow length of black undereye circles and a twitching frown. He raised the bottle to his lips, draining it of its’ frothy contents, and he uncapped another. Kah-chh. 

Maybe Rickley was right. They… they really didn’t know anything about each other after all. That much was becoming agonizingly evident. “Y…you’re right.” Now that he thought about it, not once had they ever just sat down and fucking discussed anything, because, because… Rick always avoided it, turning tail at the slightest mention of the past. Could he be blamed? The only thing there was to look back on was misery. “You’re right, b-babe. I’ve, I nnnever asked why y-you called me Prime before, I-I just thought y-yyyyou didn’t want to talk uh-about it a-aaand–” he swallowed hard. “I hng haven’t t-told you about - about - hnnnn.” He clenched his teeth so hard he nearly bit the filter of his cigarette clean in two.

God, he couldn’t even start talking about the incident while he was this sober. The circles he was drinking himself in weren’t big enough for the vowels he tried to put inside of them. Alcohol wasn’t going to do the trick. 

But he could still bench press these ills, soothe it over with cheap heroin and illegal prescription pills. 

The sharp hypodermic ends of the needles sitting next to him picked up the light in such dainty, pretty ways. He’d missed them. 

When that old urge hit him, the one that compelled Rick to pursue that high, it all started coming together like clockwork. There was the little baggie of thick black tar and the deep spoon covered in scorch marks and a splash of water, skillfully combined and held surprisingly still in shaky hands. He struggled to flick the lighter underneath it, mumbling curses about the low fluid but continuing anyway, determined to cook up these dangerous drugs. 

Fwsh. There it goes. 

The ritual in itself was calming. It centered his mindstate, just looking into the dancing flame, knowing that precious releif wasn’t far away. 

The knowledge somehow helped him start easing words off of his tongue. Maybe because he didn’t have to live with himself after he said it. “Y-you - you lost your leg because of mmmme, R-Rickley. That’s the - that’s the truth.” His voice was low and roughened by exhaustion. “I-I-I fucked up, I s-ssscared you.” He stared into the flame hard, powering through the tightness seizing up his lungs, slurring together his stutter. “W-wwwwe were kissing a-aaand - and everything was fine and then you - you started screaming and I s-ssstarted driving and oh god, y-yyyyou opened the door.”

The contents in the spoon were bubbling and the lighter in his hand was getting so hot that he could feel the heat radiating off of silver metal on the tip of his thumb. He let the fire go out and pressed the hot end of the lighter to his arm, feeling a sickly satisfaction as it seared a half moon into his flesh. It helped him concentrate. 

“I-IIII saw you die, R-Rrrrrickley.” 

His expression was blank, but his voice betrayed him as it cracked. “Just like them. I sssswear I-I saw you bleed out in m-my arms in the middle of th-that road, a-aaand it was my fucking fault a-again.“ 

Focus. Throw the cotton in and fill up the syringe. Ease his belt out of the loops, throw it over an arm. He’d know exactly what it felt like to be okay as soon as he found a vein. 

“I’m so ffffucking stupid, R-Rrrickley. I’m the - I’m the Rick who can’t do anything right.” The admittance was laced with notes of stinging hatred, self deprecation running thick off his tongue. “Th-that’s why I sssold drugs, cause I - I know I’m scum. I-I’m such a-aaaa fucking idiot fuckup and I’m nnnnot good enough for you, Rickley, I-IIII never was.” His voice had gone flat, factual. “I f-fffooled you good for a-aaa while, though.” 

He couldn’t find the strength to raise his head. He was too afraid to look the world in the eye. If he had to feel like this for one more minute, he’d rather die.

So he put the needle tip into the spoon and drew up the brown tar into one syringe in a generously portioned hit, placing it between his yellow teeth as he drew up another. He didn’t know whether he’d be able to slam both of them before he passed out or not, but it didn’t matter. 

Love was really something. It was consuming, it was pure, it wasn’t like this… complicated mess between them, heartbreaking and impossible to ignore. 

Maybe love was heroin. He loved heroin.

Finding a decent vein to shoot up in was a challenge. He put the leather of the belt between his teeth, yanking it taut on his bicep and gave it a whack, thumping a flat palm on his inner elbow in an effort to coax out the viable spots that just needed to be there. “C-c’mon.” The scars from countless other needlepoints from dark days had already blown out all the best places. He hated looking down at his own arms, all mottled with straight little lines and puckered dots. The vessels looked like blue train lines, all fucked up and buried deep. He slapped the crook of his elbow harder. 

There it was. He could see it now, the good vein throbbing to the surface. He worked with a bizarrely clear headed concentration, his fingers refusing to shake as he guided the needle under his skin. Lost in a devotion to poison that represented salvation, escapism. 

The prick of pain alone almost made his eyes roll. “Uhhhn.” Mind on a drift into the hazy mist of a junkies’ high, he pushed a thumb on the plunger slowly, slumping into the seat with a relaxedness that could only be achieved by a feeling of total, complete and utter relief. 

From everything. 

Like thunder underwater, he heard it fade away, and felt no pain at all. 

Rickley knew that’s what Rick would say… He knew Rick couldn’t leave him and he didn’t really understand why but he felt the same. Rickley felt like he was melting right then and there, breaking down so suddenly that he wouldn’t be able to repair himself. God, the love he felt for Rick was so strong and so hopeless that he just didn’t know what to do now, their relationship stricken down the middle, broken and splintered like a tree struck by lightning.

He frowned as his partner spoke the truth, the frightening truth that they didn’t know nearly as much as they should about each other. Prime, god, he had called him Prime before, hadn’t he? “But th-that’s n-not your ffffault, I should have ttttold you about hhhim… I…” He pressed his face into his hands, shoulders trembling with silent sobs.

When he heard the swish of the lighter, Rickley turned to watch the flame, the fire dancing in his glossy blue eyes. Every few moments his face contorted, as if he were trying to hide the pain that settled deep inside of him. It did hurt like hell.

He listened intently as Rick began to speak, his face turning down so that the light was only in his peripheral. God, what had he put this poor man through? His damn instincts caused Rick’s mental break, slowly chipping away with each fucking new day, each glance at his goddamn injury, fuck, fuck!

“Rrrrick!” his voice broke in distress, and he covered his mouth and closed his eyes. He just listened to the man until he was finished speaking, trying to hold back hot tears of guilt that felt like acid burning through layers of skin. “Nngggh..nnoooo!! its not your faault!!” Rickley pleaded, voice going high pitched with urgency and fear. God it wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t..! “You’re nnnnot scum yyou’re not a ffffffuckup!! Nooo… I love you I’m not angry I’m nnnot…”

He hated how scared and desperate he sounded. He just needed Rick to believe him and as the moments passed by Rickley turned his head to finally look at him and god, Rick was a mess. He’d hurt him so badly and he thought it was his fault…! Rickley just watched hopelessly as Rick desperately shot those drugs into his veins. He just watched hopelessly as the love of his life faded into a high daze, surely invisible to the world. He wasn’t invisible to Rickley.

When Rick slumped back into the driver’s seat, Rickley wiped his tears desperately and gently brushed away the stray items that still lay on Rick’s lap. He bit his lip and then gently managed to crawl over the center console and settle down into Rick’s lap, pressing his head to the crook of his neck.

Rickley didn’t sing in front of people. It just wasn’t something he was able to do but god, right now he just… He needed to somehow show that he still cared. That he still wanted Rick. He fought back the tears and kissed at Rick’s neck, sighing shaking and resting his head back down as he began to sing so softly…

🎶It’s goin’ all right  
Soak it in

I mean this sponge site  
Is coated in

The warmth of your tides

They’re breakin’ it in…🎶

His voice broke before he could go any further, a sob wracking his body as he pressed desperately to his only hope.

The used needle slipped out of limp fingers and fell to the floor, discarded and easily forgotten just like absolutely everything else.

Oh yeah, this shit right here? This was it. For the first time in too long, things finally felt well rounded and blunt in the most heavenly way. Like all of realities’ pesky sharp edges had been dulled down until they were perfectly smooth and humanely painless.

Slipping farther into the void, Rick took supreme comfort in the all-consuming nothingness. All that he felt inside was fuzzy and perfectly numb and… It was as if he was floating atop an unreachable cloud, or being sucked down into a black oblivion - somewhere he remained untouched by the troubles of the world, no longer plagued by even the barest shred of discomfort or rational thought. 

Up here, he didn’t have to think about anything anymore. He didn’t need to remember his own name, or know where he was, or even have to know who he was. Nobody could reach him here, too well sheltered by a cloak of intoxicated feelings, comfortably mixed.

Almost nobody.

His lover came to hold him, phasing through the haze as if appearing in an abstract, pleasant dream. Arms wrapped around shoulders - his shoulders? - and Rick knew he’d… he’d be good. That familiar weight resting atop hips and against chest felt sublimely warm and reassuring against clammy skin, something borderline real and palpable. 

Glassy, bloodshot eyes rolled weakly in their sockets beneath heavy purpleish eyelids, head bobbing as if he was actively falling asleep and startling back awake over and over, until his chin finally came to rest on a bony shoulder. “Mmmmh,” he moaned into the embrace, too out of it to do anything other than sit there.

What was that noise? It was right next to his ear, so soothing and calm. He liked that voice. It made his head spin a little less fast. 

“Mmmn… Rrrrr…”

Slightly parted, loose lips couldn’t seem to find the strength to complete a single word, and he let the vocalization die prematurely in his throat. This satisfying dizziness whisked all of those troubling thoughts away, casting them into the wind. 

All but one persistent presence of a wet sob crackling in his ear. 

There was the slightest twitch in his brow, the barest hint of clarity peeking through for a split second. Why was… why was Rickley so upset again? 

“I’hhm… I’mnnn jusss tired.“

Rickley knew he had to keep it together for Rick. He could already tell the man was on verge of overdose and he needed to help him through it. Stay calm, not just for Rick, but for himself. He shushed him gently, running a gentle hand through his mussed hair.  
“Sshhh… No baby, y-you’re just really h-high… It’s okay…” His voice was soft and gentle.

He managed to swallow those tears back and wipe his damp eyes, pressing a soft kiss to Rick’s cheek. “Y-You’re gonna be okay, I love you Rick, I love you.”

Rickley cleared his throat a bit and began to sing softly again, picking up where he left off in the song. He kept his voice low as to not disturb Rick as Rickley attempted to lull him to sleep. A hand gently pressed Rick’s head into the crook of his shoulder, coaxing him to fully relax. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew they’d end up back at the house, but he wasn’t concerned with that now. He just wanted Rick to know he still loved him.

When he finished the song, he swallowed thickly and ran a tender hand through Rick’s tangled locks, carefully smoothing out the frayed blue hair and keeping it from Rick’s face.  
“I really love y-you a lot,” he murmured, kissing his cheek again softly and sighing. “Y-you make me nervous th-though, babe.. You c-can trust me. I love you…” he frowned and stopped himself from speaking any further, just deciding to hum softly.

A few minutes passed and Rickley maneuvered around Rick, gently lifting his body and rolling him over into the passenger seat. They had to keep going. They needed to get to those mountains in the distance.

Rickley pulled Rick’s jacket off of his body and balled it up into a makeshift pillow for him. He then turned back to stare out the windshield, sighing and starting the car. It was difficult at first, using his left foot to move the pedals, but he got the hand of it after a bit. Soon enough they were on their way again, Rickley staring ahead with tired eyes filled with a fiery determination to get Rick to those mountains. It was the least he could do.

Rick was on a downward spiral out of his mind, leaving him vacant in every sense of the word. He felt unattached to the weak body slumped in scarred, skinny arms, held to it only by a thinning thread of consciousness. Even the usually beloved gesture of spindly fingers running tenderly through messy blue hair was all but lost on his drug-drowned psyche, only prodding out a weak groan in response.

There it was again, that thing that bled through the effects of soul-numbing drugs; that sweet voice, shaky and unstable but still as smooth as honey. In dim recognition of being spoken to, Rick blinked up at Rickley wearily, one drooping eyelid falling a second before then the other. His head kept nodding as if unable to hold itself upright, falling in and out of himself. No matter how long he stupidly stared, his vision couldn’t focus. His pupils simply didn’t adjust fast enough to track movement, emphasising how everything about his functionality was hindered drastically by the effects of intravenous narcotics, brain moving in slow motion as it melted inside of his skull.

“…Oh,” he mumbled after a great deal of delay, humming in acceptance. Really high? That was okay. This was nice. He didn’t know who he was or what was happening or why, but goddamn, did it feel good to just rest here and let himself be quietly talked to and serenaded. Rickleys’ voice made the slightest pinpricks of worry that coincided with a vague awareness of his own shaking limbs be swept away by the warmth of his tides.

It was so nice that he almost didn’t want to leave. Almost.

The crook of neck under his brow was supple and familiar, a perfect pillow upon which to rest his heavy head and listen to the soft spoken syllables of song washing over him in rolling waves. It was the sweetest lullaby that Rick had ever heard, even if he couldn’t understand the words anymore. He felt like he could fall into it forever, just floating here, letting his eyes drift gradually closed with the ghosts of stinging kisses peppering his still red cheeks…

It was over. He’d finally given in and passed out, crumpled up and almost catatonic as his body shut down to minimize the damage of the drugs pumping thickly through his veins, dead to the world for long hours to come.

___________

Conciousness was not a welcome feeling.

The unpleasantries of being awake and alive started their series of merciless assaults as soon as Ricks’ groggy mind began drifting out of the dark, cold abyss of sleep and into - into harsh, hellish reality.

“Uuuugh.” Oh, holy mother of shit, did his throbbing head hurt. It felt like somebody had taken a jackhammer to the insides of his skull until it cracked, spiderwebbing a hundred hairline fractures through the front of his forehead and down through thin orbital cavities. The classic consequences of severe dehydration within the brain made Ricks’ eyeballs ache, feel like they were too tightly packed in their sockets.

“Nnnngh, uuuugh…" The pitiful groans left Ricks’ cracked lips in rough croaks, rolling over a tongue that felt like it was made of bone dry cotton. He needed a drink, and he needed one now.

An uncoordinated hand reached out and blindly fumbled for a bottle in the cup holder, pressing the rim to his lips and sipping at the last two inches of foamy warm beer without a single flinch, thankful for the moisture coating the insides of his mouth.

Aw hell, he couldn’t bear to pry open his eyelids more than a fraction of an inch without feeling stings of pain. A flat hand raised shakily to his brow to shield sensitive eyes as he mustered the strength to lift his head off of the balled pastel fabric that he’d been using as a neck-kinking pillow and pushed himself up in the passenger seat with a myriad of expressive groans.

He was moving, and it wasn’t just because of the sickly dizziness that made the world rock unsteady. No, he could - he could feel licks of wind blowing through his tangled hair, whipping past the open window with a dull roar. That’s right - him and Rickley were on a roadtrip together. How long had he been out? And why did his body hurt all over? “Oooooh… oh jesus…”

Wait. Hold on. He… he wasn’t the one driving anymore. When he squinted over to his left, Rickley was the one with hands on the wheel, steering them towards an ever encroaching horizon. When did they switch out? When had he fallen asleep?

Shit. Nothing ever made sense when he woke up anymore. Those ominous dreams were always so disorienting. “R-Rrrrickley?” He piped up, dragging the back of his knuckles over a crusty eye. “W-wuh-where’re we?”

There was a light up ahead, just edging on the crest of the horizon. For a minute, Rick thought it might be artificial lights, but the colors starting to tinge the sky were too fiery to be anything but too bright sunlight. “B-babe? Duh-did we m-mmmake it there yet…?”

For hours on end it was just Rickley and the road, haunting thoughts forced down so he could somehow focus on keeping them from swerving off the road. Nothing changed after hours off driving and those mountains still looked so far away. He was starting to think it was some sort of mirage and they were trapped in a hellish desert.  
Not far from the truth.

Guilt still kneaded at his heart, pulling and pushing and hurting so badly from this overwhelming guilt upon his shoulders. He hoped that Rick wouldn’t remember in a sickening decision, only adding to the crushing feeling that kept tears behind his eyes.

When Rick finally began to stir, Rickley kept his mouth shut until he heard Rick speak to him first.  
“Hhhhey, we’re.. W-we’ve been driving for a while… N-not sure how long bbbut you were… Sleeping for a long time,” Rickley responded in a stammered slur, his body slumping slightly with a sudden exhaustion that swept over his body.

“We’re n-not there yet… I don’t know h-how long it will take..” he said quietly, rubbing at his eyes before sighing and silently pulling the car to the side of the road, wheels rolling gradually to a stop. He needed to make sure Rick was okay. He turned the key in the ignition and the rumble of the car was cut off.

“A-Are you feeling okay?” Rickley blurted out suddenly, beginning to lean over to brush a hand through Rick’s hair but– he stopped, flinched at himself and looked down. “Y-you need to eat something, you’re p-probably really hungry a-a-and you should h-have something to d-drink more than beer…”

Rickley moved to look into the back seat, fingers shaking as he went to grab a fast food sandwich they’d bought much earlier in the road trip. It was a day old but, good enough for Rick, most likely. They probably didn’t have any water, though…

Rickley set the burger on the seat for Rick but he was in the other seat in an instant once more, going slower than before and being as gently as he could…  
He just hugged Rick tightly, dry lips pressing against Rick’s parched mouth. He missed kissing him.

Read flooded Rickley’s cheeks and he shook his head, “Sssorry…” he hummed, sniffling and letting out a small, humorless laugh. “I just.. really love you…”

Struggling to function while steeped in an opiate hangover haze, Rick raised a calloused hand and rubbed at his temple with a frown. He’d been sleeping for a long time? Maybe that was why he couldn’t remember jack shit. “Oh,“ he dimly acknowledged, sounding positively unsure of himself. Despite the gentleness embedded in Rickleys’ carefully chosen words, he couldn’t help but feel as though something were amiss.

That gut feeling only increased tenfold as the car started pulling off the road, the sensation of brakes bringing back a - a strange feeling of negative nostalgia, a deja vu.

“W-what? Of - of course I’m o-oookay,” he assured gruffly. In all honesty, he couldn’t give less of a shit how his own bones hurt and joints were all stuff and the insides of his head were killing him. “Listen, y-you don’t gotta s-stop for me, b-babe, I’m - I’m fine, I…”

The words trailed off, dying on the tip of his tongue as the revelations pertaining to last nights… issues seeped back into his mental frame in jagged, scrappy pieces. Somewhere between all the holes burned clean through his brain, Rick could recall the staggering ache in his puffy cheeks, the constricting squeeze in his chest that came hand in hand with genuine sparks of fear, the incomparable pleasure of a needle sinking into his arm;

Oh. He… He’d made a mistake, hadn’t he? Shit. He’d fucked up and used that old crutch, drew up enough dope to kill an elephant and selfishly slammed it without ever thinking of the consequences. “I just… hit a-aaa little rough patch, R-Rrrrickley.”

Running a hand through ragged locks didn’t help to clear his fuzzy head, clogged with memories of pleasant disorientation and blurred admittances pouring out past lips curled in a stubborn grimace that braced against sobs.

The insides of his chest felt weighted, like all of his organs had turned to lead bricks stacked within his body cavity. Like he was so unspeakably heavy that he could never move again and simply corrode into the unforgiving earth.

What a fucking mess he’d been, an embarrassing puddle of weakness. Rick didn’t blame his lover for flinching away, lowering his hand instead of touching him. He should make Rickley cringe now.

Even though everything felt like shit, the promise of that old fast food burger did seem like a good enough reason to kick himself out of the pity party. That, and the -

The knee crossing over his lap to straddle him, the pale lips coming to press against his own chapped ones with soft smecks. They tasted like old hopps together, and Rick melted into it like soft butter, shaking underhand as he whined into the kiss.

God, Rickley felt like heaven, and he was a sinner banging at the gates.

A hand trailed up and ran fingers over a thigh sitting atop his own, gently caressing a hip as he let his tired head loll forward weakly. He pressed his forehead to the center of Rickleys’ chest, leaning into his touch like he needed it. “Yyy… you’re too good f-for me, R-Rrrrickley,” he moaned, arms looping loosely around his lovers’ thin waist. “I-I hhhhhad such a - a long dream, and I… so thought I saw you in th-the water a-aaand I…”

He pressed his forehead into the soft material of sweater a little harder, like he wanted to hide inside the knitting from the world. ”-aaand I d-don’t feel good and… Oh god, I-IIII love you a lot too, R-Rrrrickley, I-I…“

Rickley couldn’t bare to see Rick like this, hollowed out and scared and vulnerable, it’s like they switched places but god he knew, he knew Rick would never hurt him like that. He hated himself, his guilt steadily rotting inside of his heart, clutching him tightly and falling into the pit of his stomach. He’d never forgive himself.

“God b-baby, I’m so.. I’m sorry…” he whimpered, gently caressing his cheeks and pressing his face into Rick’s hair, salty tears falling into the messy swath of blue. Rickley shushed him quietly, shaking his head, “Riick, you’re perfectly good e-enough, its o-okay,” his voice was strained behind tears.  
“The d-dream w-wasnt real, you… You’re with me..” he whispered, holding him so gently and close, careful not to hurt him again because god, Rickley had no idea that he was capable of doing that to Rick, the person he loved the most.

When Rick started to ramble on, Rickley shushed him again and pulled his face up so gently and kissing his lips. “It’s g-going to b-be okay..” he said in a shaky voice, fully knowing that it probably wouldn’t be okay.

He felt their hearts beat together, and he looked into those faded blues and opened his heart, his soul spilling from his eyes in the form of tears. “You are perfect to me. I love you. I don’t care if we have differences and I don’t care what you’ve done in your past I.. I love you, and what you’ve done doesn’t m-matter. The only thing that matters is n-now.”

And right now, Rickley wanted to get lost in his arms.  
He pressed their lips together again, a bit more passionately, arms wrapped around his shoulders and digging into the fabric of his shirt. He whined softly, unable to stop the overflow of tears that lasted through the kiss, trembling with a fear of being rejected– fear of being left alone for what he’d done. For what he’d never do again.

Encircled within these familiar arms, Rick always felt so safe.

He felt like he could breathe whenever Rickley held him close like this, soothing over even the worst knotted pains that made their home between flimsy ribs. Yesterdays’ trials and traumas seemed to fall away like shedded skin as he melded into the comforting embrace, bunched shoulders slumping as muscles unwound and went limp under his lovers’ trusted hand.

There was just something special about the way Rickley hushed down his crippling self doubt in mere syllables, how he spoke muffled reassurances in warm breaths that was inherently calming. Rick felt like when he was here, he was protected from the terrifying unsureness of their world. It was the kind of relief he’d craved every minute of every waking day, the kind he could never quite reach via whiskey shots and swallowed pills.

“Nnn, it’s - it’ssss okay,” came a slurred a repetition of his partners’ words, quietly mumbled into the fabric of oversized clothes as if Rick was trying to get a grasp on their meaning. 

Maybe Rickley was right. Really, he always was. That agonizing dream of distorted darkness and tangled wires and cold hadn’t been anything but a mental fabrication, and everything really was going to be alright. He wanted to stay just like this forever, wanted to believe it, wanted to feel okay for just a moment longer… 

Weary eyes fluttered closed with the shakiest of sighs as Rick felt small hands rubbing thumbs delicately over the reddened patches highlighting his sensitive cheeks, trying to undo the harm they’d wreaked. Leaning into soft palms eagerly, he let his downturned face be guided upwards so that Rickley could lay a kiss on his slightly parted lips with the utmost care. It was so sweet, so painstakingly kind, awarded to him as if his lover was taking care to handle him with extreme caution just in case he fell apart, afraid he’d break under a touch too rough. 

How could Rickley look at him like this and think he could he be good enough for anything? 

Sad, half lidded eyes found themselves gazing into those seafoam blues, the ones that had always reminded him so much of a once-pleasant ocean, the sky on an overcast day. Rick couldn’t look at them with anything short of adoration, hopelessly starstruck and magnetized, couldn’t rip himself away from the beauty staring back at him if he tried.

Not when he could swear he saw the soul behind those blues, the spark that shimmered when Rickley started talking, sounding so self assured and confident even through rapidly accumulating tears.

“You are perfect to me. I love you.“

All it took was the first two lines to make the pattern of Ricks’ shallow breathing seize up, tears springing into the corners of crinkling eyes. It looked like he might be teetering on the verge of breaking out into the same heavy sobs that he’d been in last night, except this time they wouldn’t be based in sorrow. 

He’d… he’d never heard anybody praise him like that in his entire fucking life.

He didn’t think he was worth anything. It didn’t take a genius brain to understand the concept that he wasn’t unique or important - carbon copies of himself were a dime a dozen, who would ever notice if he was gone? Rick never thought he was worth the star dirt that made up the components of his shitty, deteriorating body. He didn’t think he mattered to anybody. Not even himself.

And after everything that happened last night? It’d just elevated that feeling, it’d…

It’d hurt. Everything had hurt so bad.

Shit, he’d been so sure that if Rickley knew what happened in the accident, he’d realize what a monster he really was and never want to see him again and he’d be alone in this hell. It’d been wrong not to tell him before, but - but he didn’t know how he was supposed to go through losing everything he loved all over again, and he never thought he would stand the chance of being forgiven for something so shitty, he never thought that Rickley would ever love him again, and–

It was too much.

“Hnnnng…. R-Rrrrrickley!” The haggard old man meekly cried out though salty tears that rolled in furious streams down his cheeks and over Rickleys’ fingers, features starting to bunch up as the walls of guardedness fell and that pent up emotion he kept locked away finally got the better of him. “I-I hhhn llllove you, I love you so mmm- hhnnnn–”

He couldn’t talk. How could he hope to stay composed when Rickley was on top of him like this, pulling every inch of himself closer and digging fingers into shirt fabric, tilting his head just so–

Their lips pressed together in the most heartfelt of kisses, passionate and rushed, like they feared being separated. Rick hummed into it greatfully, taking in every unique taste and sensation that he’d come to love so much that it made his heart hurt.

They clung to each other like they’d be ripped away any second, desperate to be felt and held all the same. Any handhold to bring him closer, he took; Ricks’ hands went from grasping hips to snaking up Rickleys’ back underneath his sweater, trailing calloused fingers over the bumps of bony spine and back dimples. Every scar on his skin was memorized like a road map, fingers gliding over textured blemishes in silent worship. He loved every part of Rickley, through and through.

It didn’t take long for them to become lost in breathy sighs and warm lips running over one another, noisy smecks and quiet moans hanging in the air. It was hard to tell if the wetness on his face was because of Rickleys’ tears or his own, blending togther into salty stings on the tongue.

“Haaah, Rrrrickley,” he finally panted out, chest already heaving from exhertion. Rickley took his breath away without even trying, made him squirm in his seat like he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Oh, Rrrrickley, don’t ssstop, d-don’t let mmm-me go…“

Watching his sweetheart finally give in and fall apart to his emotions was relieving and devastating at the same time. Rick couldn’t even speak, and Rickley didn’t mind. He didn’t need to speak. He just held him tightly, cooing and caressing him with the utmost care. He’d never let anyone hurt him, not anymore.

“Baby, baby i-it’s okay, shh, you c-can cry..” Rickley said softly, kissing the tears on his cheeks before silencing him again with another kiss. Feeling Rick’s wandering hands against his back made him nervous as always, but he easily relaxed as those fingers moved shakily across his sensitive skin.

He had missed kissing Rick. He missed that taste of alcohol and smoke and passion behind those thin lips. Rickley was lost in it within seconds, eyes slipping closed as he delicately looped his arms around his neck to sit on Rick’s lap. He let out a quiet moan as their lips parted, almost wanting to sob at the loss of contact.

The tone in Rick’s voice gripped him tightly and he brought his hands to his tender cheeks again, moving to kiss them, praising the injured skin. He gently wiped away the tears that streamed down his lover’s face and nodded. “I w-wont stop R-Rick. I won’t l-let you go. I’ll n-never leave. I-it’s okay.” Rickley stared into his eyes as his own shimmered with unconditional love. He pressed a few smecks against his lips to make his point before leaning to kiss against his neck.

He was so damn gentle when he kissed down his neck to his collarbone, soft kisses running over scars. He sucked on the skin softly, but not enough to make a mark. Rickley hadn’t done this sort of thing in a long time, so he was shaking slightly and nervous. God he didn’t want to hurt him.

Carefully, he ran his hands beneath his blue shirt and pushed it up. He sighed in happiness as he saw that skin, the scars beneath his nipples and the scar on his abdomen– god, he loved Rick more than anything. He leaned down to kiss around Rick’s nipples, a hand coming up to gently tweak the other one. He laughed nervously, and looked up at Rick.

“I-Is this okay?” he said as he kissed all around his chest, hands running down his sides in a such gentle manner. He moved one to pull the lever that let the seat fall into a laying position. He sat up a bit, whining softly as he felt himself grind slightly against Rick. His face was red and his eyes shined with lust. “I love you,” he breathed out, leaning back down to press their lips together again.

Blinking through bleary vision, Rick whimpered as soft lips whisked away the sticky tears midway through their trickling decent down his face, their tracks wiped from his features by caressing hands. He felt so wide open and vulnerable, letting everything show like this, but he didn’t want to stifle it. He wanted to stay spinning in Rickleys’ grip, dizzied by each and every reassuring gesture.

The palms cupping his cheeks guided his swimming eyes back up to meet Rickleys’, so clear and harmless. So polar opposite to the flashes of anger he’d seen in them last night.

And when he spoke, the words rolled off of Rickleys’ pink lips unhindered by doubt, and Rick could swear he’d never felt more like his heart was stapled to his sleeve. It - it felt like all of his rough edges were being smoothed down, anxieties lessened by love. Those soothing murmurs that it was okay put his worrying mind right at ease.

How had he survived without Rickley? For everything it was worth, he couldn’t imagine facing a day without the love of his life there to cradle him just like this.

“Hhhhhn, p-please d-don’t ever go, R-Rickley, I-I…“ he sharply exhaled and stammered, searching for the right response but finding none, finding himself swiftly overwhelmed by a series of pecks on his lips that quieted him immediately. Really, he couldn’t have reformed the thought if he wanted to; Those wandering kisses starting to trail along the sensitive erodgynous zones on the side of his neck were too distracting. “Ohhhh, R-Riiiiickley~”

The presence of a hot mouth against his jugular felt so good that it almost made his eyes roll back, skin breaking out into tingling goosebumps as wet lips left patches of saliva in their wake. Rick furrowed his brow and let his head tilt to the side, allowing for ease of access. “Hhhn, a-aaah…” The way Rickleys’ warm whisps of breath poured over his skin, how he took extra care around the ring of numb scar tissue eeking nitches out of his collarbone - it was really getting to him. He was rendered weak under every touch, so malleable and wanton. When was the last time anyone had been this careful with him? Given him this much attention?

Maybe never.

“Mmmnnn~” he moaned quietly, arching into the hands dragging over his abdominals up to the plane of his bony chest, bringing the bunched fabric of the blue shirt he was wearing with them. Every trail of fingers was warm and heavenly, eliciting an unsuppressed sigh or moan; it was like being touched for the first time all over again. Like every nerve was alight and on fire and he ached for more.

He’d - he’d never liked his own body, per se. There wasn’t much to be fond of, all ratty and coated in the ugliest of scars, stories he’d rather not remember…. But when Rickley looked at him as if he were admiring a fine piece of art, leaned down to plant kisses across his sternum and quick-beating heart, Rick could almost believe that he wasn’t a complete trash heap of a human being. It made him feel like he was worthwhile.

Lustily half lidded eyes watched Rickleys’ head bob against his chest as exploratative hands roamed where they pleased, taking him off guard with a cheeky brush over a nipple. “Mmmm…” He had trouble inhaling breath again when he felt hands glide their way down his sides languidly, threatening to undo him completely. He bit his own lower lip lightly.

Was it getting hotter in here? It felt like a sauna inside of these clothes.

When Rickley looked back up at him, he knew that the raging blush across the bridge of his nose was as obvious as the stars sparkling in his eyes. God, it was better than okay. “Y-yyyes,” he stammered out an eager affirmation, shuddering though the word as he felt a pleasant chill run down his spine. “P-please, R-Rickley, i-it ffffeels so – aah!”

The seat fell back flat all at once, cutting off Ricks’ pleading whine halfway through and instinctively making him tense up, accidentally thrusting hips up against Rickleys’. The faint noise his partner made was mirrored, an unintelligible sound of neediness. He realized he was gripping Rickleys’ thighs for support, and Rick meekly let his hold slacken. “Hah…”

Underneath Rickley like this, it was easier to look up and really admire the details that defined him. How the light caught in those big soulful eyes, how the mesh of scars made little dips in his cheeks, how messy hair framed his gorgeous face. He looked like an angel.

That I love you made his ribs feel too tight around his lungs.

Rick could barely choke out an, “I-I love you too, R-Riiickley,” before he lost his train of thought. Their faces came tantalizingly close again, and he tilted his head to receive another kiss, slow and methodical and gentle.

It was perfect. They fit together so seamlessly, flawless and harmoniously in tune in every way;

Thats why Rick wasn’t sure why he turned his head halfway through the makeout, ripping his lips away from Rickleys’ in an abrupt interruption just to blurt out something stupid. “Y-yyyou don’t have to! Y-you - we–“ he panted, having a hard time trying to string together a sentence when he was so frazzled by the body sitting atop of him. “I-I mean, uh, y-you don’t - Don’t have to feel like you have to - to, uhm, do anything f-for me, babe, a-aaand–! I’m n-not saying I don’t want it, ohgod I do, I-IIII like it, I j-just…”

Stupid, stupid. Why was he babbling?

Oh, shit, he wasn’t - he wasn’t nervous, was he?

He was. Not that he could admit it to himself, but the truth was that he was terrified. He was scared he wasn’t doing or being enough by lying here, that he was shortchanging Rickley or - or…

Maybe being appreciated wasn’t something he was used to.

“It’s just…” Rick curled fingers into the seat cushion. “Y-you’re the only one w-who’s ever been so good to me, a-aaand…” He swallowed, gazing up at his partner with a twinge of apprehension that gave way to undiluted love and arousal.

He wanted it so bad. He wanted to know what it felt like. “P-please don’t stop. IIII d-don’t want it to ssstop, Rrrrickley.”

Rickley listened to him closely, taking in each groan and whine, listening to his soft rambling. “I w-wont leave, I promise,” he said softly, gentle hands sweeping across Rick’s scarred skin with the utmost care. Evey movement was followed by soft encouragements and praises. Rickley knew he could never undo the harm he’d done to Rick, but he’d try his best to make up for it, show how much he truly loved Rick. Because God, he loved him.

He looked up to him as Rick spoke, rambling and his voice laced with uncertainty. It made Rickley’s heart ache but he just smiled softly, a hand cupping his lover’s cheek and stroking the pink tinged skin.  
Rickley shushed him, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips before speaking quietly, “I w-want to do this, Rick. I love you more than a-anything. Y-You deserve to b-be treated nicely… R-relax baby, just breathe. This is y-your time. I won’t stop.”

Rickley pecked his lips once more before carefully helping Rick pull his shirt off completely, and he discarded it onto the back seat. He kissed up and down his chest sloppily and with such care, stopping at his nipples to suck on them gently for just a few moments. He hummed as his mouth moved down again, kissing down the little blue happy trail that disappeared under his pants. His hands moved to undo his belt and Rickley carefully pulled down Rick’s pants.

His face tinged red, Rickley looked up at Rick through his blue lashes. He moved to take off his sweater a moment later, revealing porcelain skin littered with ugly scars, angry and criss crossing every which way. Small breasts fell softly across his chest, and he looked away, a bit embarrassed by his body.

Rickley turned his attention back to Rick’s body, and he focused on pulling his pants down further. He smiled and let out a soft breath. “I l-love you..” he murmured, fingers trembling as they splayed across his hips, face leaning down to kiss from his belly button down his happy trail and to his warm arousal.

He pressed kisses all around it, letting out breaths as he shook slightly. “I-I h-haven’t done this in a long t-time,” he said with a nervous laugh, hands rubbing along Rick’s hips. Rickley pressed his lips down onto Rick’s clit, sucking softly and closing his eyes. His face was red and his body was shaking with nervousness. He just wanted to make Rick feel good.

Every time Rick felt a careful thumb run tenderly over the angry handprint outlining his swollen cheek, the sting lessened a little more under the presence of kind touch. The corner of his eye on that side still crinkled in the slightest flinch, blue orbs shimmering with the most genuine faith refusing to break away from his lovers’.

He… he’d said he loved him more than anything.

The sweetness embedded in that confession made Ricks’ drug-corroded heart skip a beat, smoke-blackened lungs wheezing out jumbled fragments of what were supposed to be words. “M-muh-my time? I-I…” It was becoming increasingly difficult to battle the qualms with himself that argued that he didn’t really deserve what Rickley intended on giving him, but the voice of objection nagging at the back of his mind was swiftly quieted by his partners’ much more convincing assurances.

Just relax and breathe, he’d said. Don’t overthink things, don’t wander back to the past, just focus on the here and now and go with the flow. “Hhhhnn… o-okay, babe, okay, I… I love yyyyou.” He finally let the troubling stress kept caged within his center ebb away, body limpening under his lovers’ wandering hands and letting himself completely give in to desire, convinced into just… allowing things to happen, enjoying the moment instead of letting self-deprecation get in the way of the pleasure he craved.

God, he really couldn’t adore Rickley more. Every second of eye contact, every move he made… Rick was hopelessly smitten by all of it.

Leaning into a brief smeck, Rick sighed in satisfaction as he let the long sleeve shirt come off cooperatively, raising arms high above his head to help his partner slip it right over his tussled mess of hair. He liked the feeling of Rickleys’ cableknit sweater brushing against his barren flesh, almost as cashmere soft as the lithe hands tracing the bumps of his narrow ribcage.

As soon as his torso was free of clothing obstruction, those delightful kisses skipped from his mouth back down to his body in a way that was thrilling yet trepidating. They were moist and messy, Rickley dragging enticing seashell pink lips all over him, swaths of flesh gone long untouched suddenly being smothered with attention making Rick whine. The soft pops of suctioned lips disconnecting from stiff nipples made him twitch and squirm, eyelids falling ever heavier over glassy eyes. “Mmmnh~”

The pounding of his heartbeat increased doubletime as his partner worked his way lower, across abdominals that rose and fell with every breath, sweeping across the blue hairs on the lowest part of his stomach. The sensation of heat so close to the right place sent a rush of burning need right between his legs, a physical ache. “Hhhah…”

The fingers deftly undoing his belt and curling beneath the waistband of his slacks made Rick momentarily nervous. What if - what if Rickley didn’t like what he saw? He almost clenched his legs together, but didn’t. He’d let Rickley see every inch of him, as much as he’d like.

So he let his pants slide off, biting down on his own bottom lip a little too hard. He was anxious for a reason; between his legs he was pink and small and soft, the skin of his thighs and lower hips framing the most intimate parts of him marred up by thick, clean cut lines. It appeared as if something dragged sharp knifepoints across his flesh in groups of fours and fives; like claws had traipsed their way just shy of femoral arteries. They weren’t exactly subtle, but definitely better seen up close, and Rick squirmed and turned his head as he tried to suppress the raging red blush rising to his face as he fought to keep his cool.

As if sensing a stab of self conciousness, Rickley leaned back where he kneeled on the floor and pulled his oversized sweater off. It wasn’t a common thing for Rickley to show off like this, to display the naturally supple chest that Rick couldn’t help but love. This nakedness put the two of them on the same level, made everything feel more intimate by the warmpth of skin on skin.

Rick ran a hand through his own hair, trying to pull himself out of his gawking and a hazy mental cloud brought on by lust as the fabric slipped off from around his ankles. “I-I! I uh, I love you t-t- oooh!“ He stuttered out, ending the last word in a cry of surprise as Rickley peppered pecks around the outskirts of delicate folds. He almost outright jumped at the contact of lips grazing against soft skin and the faintest dusting of blue hair.

For someone who admittedly hadn’t done this in a long time, he wasn’t half bad. Not that Rick had exactly been privvy to this treatment in a while, either. “Hah!“ He matched an awkward laugh. “Mmm-me neither, it’s - y-yyyyou’re doing g-good, Rickley,” he reassured, sitting up on one elbow and flashing him a nervous smile. “You - you really–“

Ricks’ voice caught in his throat, broken off by a breathy outburst leaving him all at once. “Hnn, nnnnh – A-ah!” His entire body reacted to the sudden slick mouth against the sensitive bundle of nerves between his spread legs, knees raising into the air, eyebrow arching high and mouth falling open into an O as he momentarily tensed thighs around Rickleys’ shoulders before he whimpered and allowed his body to fall back against the seat with a long, lewd moan. “Ooooohhhh, mmmmmn~”

Lanky legs came to wrap lightly around Rickleys’ thin shoulders, toes curling and pelvis wriggling on its’ own accord under the pleasurable tug offered by Rickleys’ mouth. It was like he couldn’t help but try to move in towards the undulating tongue threatening to brush across his pussy. Was - was Rickleys’ mouth really that wet, or was it just him?

It felt like the space between his hips was burning for more, sheer eroticism making his tendons tighten and tremble under his partners’ light grip. He - he needed more stimulation, or it was going to drive him crazy. “Babe, mmh-move y-your tongue - y-yeah, just like thah– O-oooh Riiiickley!” He keened out, unintentionally arching up out of the chair and throwing his head back as he felt the wriggling muscle slip out from between his partners’ teeth, dragging over him. Rick draped a bony hand over his mouth, lightly biting into rough knuckles in a futile attempt to quiet himself. “Nnnghhhh~”

He was awfully noisy, moreso than what might be expected from his usual stoic front. Maybe he liked not being in control, or maybe - maybe he was special, just for Rickley.

“Ohhhh… mmmn!” He whined, forcing his upwardly curved spine to lapse into the cushioning behind him, the slight upright angle giving him a perfect view of Rickleys’ head nestled between his quaking legs, looking down at him in intoxicated bliss, a particularly pleasurable suck almost making the insides of his thighs clap against his partners’ ears. A think strand of saliva trailed from from parted lips, running down Ricks’ chin and spilling onto rapidly heaving chest. “Sh-shhhit, hnnng~“

A hand reached down and splayed fingers through Rickleys’ hair, gently grasping the locks as encouragement. It felt so goddamn good that Rick had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep them from watering over, digging his other set of fingers into the cushioning of the seat head above him, breath coming out uneven. He couldn’t decide if he needed to hold it or let it come out wildly, pour out over his lips in pleading begs for more. “Hhhhnnn! Rrrr-rightthererighthere, nnnm~”

It was divine, each stroke against his clit bringing Rick a little closer to the edge. He just needed - he had to have one more thing to complete this, make it everything he wanted. “I nnnneed - hhhah,” he groaned, finding it harder and harder to speak. “Fffffingers, R-Rickley, ohgod p-please~”

Everything in Rickley’s mind went blank as he pleased his lover, and he felt nothing but pure bliss and love. There was no damn way he’d ever let go of Rick. He felt so whole when he was near him. Rick was so soft and warm and beautiful and with each stroke of a tongue Rickley tried to hold back the praises that wanted to come out. He wanted to keep pleasing him.

“Rrrick–” he huffed softly and breathed against his warmth, “You’re so incredible. So good.” Rickley couldn’t lie, he was never a good liar and his eyes, those sad seafoam eyes, always gave away what he felt. “I love you.”

Rickley immediately went back to sucking, moving his tongue faster as his hands smoothed over scarred skin. He rubbed gently, lovingly at those scars that covered his legs. It was okay. They both had scars. And Rickley loved each and every one of Rick’s.

Rick’s lust filled voice was a beautiful melody, and Rickley swore he’d never heard anything so incredible in his life. The sound of Rick was better than any song, any singer. “It’s okay, b-baby, it’s okay,” he cooed softly, hoping to calm him a little bit, settle his nerves, “I’ve got you, I’m not gonna let go.”

After a while of feeling Rick squirm beneath him, he heard his begging voice and Rickley sucked in a breath, nervous but eager. He pressed a soft kiss to Rick’s clit before taking a few of his own fingers into his mouth, sucking on them as he looked up at his lover lustily. When he got them sufficiently coated, he pressed one inside of him. He knew there was enough slick but he just wanted to be sure he wouldn’t hurt the most important person in the world.

After a bit of pumping his finger he added another, moving them faster now as he leaned down to suck at his arousal again, licking all around him as he trusted his fingers in steadily. He closed his eyes and listened to the sounds, using his free hand to smooth across his partner’s thigh to comfort him. He hoped this was good enough, he wanted to give Rick his best.

Oh god, if - if Rickley kept on using that sultry, soft-as-velvet voice just to tell him how good he was like this, Rick was positive he’d lose what little of his mind he still had left. “Riiiiickley…”

Their eyes met for a moment, one set so aweingly ocean blue, while Ricks’ love-blown pupils glowed like shimmering stars in his eyes, which were getting more cloudy and moist by the passing second. He couldn’t help it. It was just that - that everything his lover said, everything he did made Rick feel like his heart was swelling, growing too big for the dimensions of his chest to contain. “Hhhn, o-ohh babe~”

The gnarled fingers that had been grasping Rickleys’ mess of windblown locks trailed calloused fingertips through them as their owner leaned back and - and out of reach. “Nnnh…!” The pitiful whine slipped out on its’ own - the absence of that hot tongue lapping against him was sorely missed. He wriggled in the seat uselessly, biting his bottom lip as sticky excess saliva quickly started to cool on sensitive skin.

It was worth the wait. Ricks’ jaw went slack, a steamy breath leaving him in a huff; Holy fuck, did Rickley look sexy with fingers in his mouth. That skilled tongue of his made short work of coating them in wetness, leaving pink lips with a quiet pop. Watching every detail with rapt anticipation, Rick gripped the seat cushion harder at the first appendage pressing against sensitive entrance, applying pressure just where he’d wanted it.

“Ah, a-aaah!” A string of pants came out in rapid succession, followed by stuttered gasps that caught in his thoat as Rickley pushed in farther, and –

And Rick melted like candle wax, head falling back and brows knitting themselves high on his wrinkled forehead. “Ohgodyesss~” He moaned out unabashedly, eyes rolling under their heavy lids, knees feeling particularly weak where they hung in the air. Every thrust in and out had him singing like a choir. “Nngh, hnn, aAah!“

The building tension was definitely growing suggestively tighter in the lowest parts of his gut. Every smooth slide of one finger, then two inside of him made the tendons in his legs go taut as he erratically drew in increasingly ragged gasps. “Nnnh, aah-hhhh! Hahhhharder!”

The thigh that his partners’ hand ran across was shaking now more than ever, but not out of nervousness. It was Rickleys’ wet mouth and caressing hands that had his nerve endings set on fire all over like this, intense pleasure rolling over him in overpowering waves. The things he was doing to him were driving him crazy. He clapped a hand over his own mouth to muffle himself. “MmmmmNH!”

Oh god, he - he wouldn’t last much longer. He couldn’t even see straight. That might be because his eyes were going crossed , half lidded and watery in ecstasy. “Ooooh, Rickley! D-don’t stop! Haah!“ The words rising out of him sounded nothing short of desperate, growing more high pitched and pleading the faster that Rickleys’ tongue flicked over him, fingers burying themselves to the knuckle. His heels scraped their way up the back of his partners’ shoulderblades, higher and higher. “I’m gonna c-c - I’m gonnaaaah!”

It hit him hard. The release of all that building pleasure had him beyond moans; it felt like his lungs stopped functioning completely, every inch of his body spasming and clenching from arced back to curled toe.

“HhhhAAH!”

Ricks’ entirety quaked with each blinding throb, eyes screwed shut as he rode out the throes of orgasm. He rocked his hips forward on those fingers, reaching down to clutch Rickleys’ wrist in an encouragement to keep them there. Ricks’ free hand scrambled for a hold on anything, clawing over the window and down the inside of the door. "HhhHhhnn, Rrrrrriiiickleeeey~~”

The jolts coursing through his frame had him jumping and writhing for who knew how long. When it finally winded down, Rick hardly even knew who he was anymore, too busy swimming through a rush of endorphins to care. He practically dissolved into the seat, body turning to gelatin as soon as Rickley let up.

“Hhhhoh m-mmmy god, shhhit…” He whimpered, dragging a palm over his damp eyelashes as he tried to regain his composure - to little avail. Instead, all he ended up doing was stare down at Rickley in dizzy, unbound afterglow blissfulness, his hair a wreck and a streak of bright red flushing his cheeks.

“Rrrrickley, th-that was - that was hhh…“ Shit, he couldn’t even string a simple statement together, left speechless and spent. All he could think about was how much he wanted to put his lips on Rickleys’. “B-babe, come hhhere and - and k-kiss me.”

Just watching his sweetheart call out in such pleasure made him shiver with anticipation. He sucked in a breath, lusty eyes staring up lazily at Rick’s face as he pressed onward, soft tongue swirling on soft arousal. His heart ached with love, and he closed his eyes to consume every sound that Rick made. He loved it.

Rickley’s fingers pistoned faster at the request, smiling up at him lovingly before getting back to his task. He could tell that Rick was about to break at any moment, the way he moved and twitched and whined… Rickley was ready for it. He wanted to be the best for him.

His free hand continued to stroke his thigh, gentle and reassuring as he felt his lover squeeze around his fingers. The ache between his own legs a made him dizzy and breathless, but he focused on giving Rick everything he could.

And then Rick was spasming, and Rickley felt his hand wrap around his wrist to keep him inside. He obliged, curling his fingers slightly as he helped Rick ride this out. He pressed kisses all around his thighs, his lips sticky against skin. "So good, s-so amazing..” he whispered as he rubbed his cheek against Rick’s thigh lovingly. He let out a long breath and looked up to his lover with hazy eyes. God, Rick looked so amazing, all flustered and shaky and beautiful. Rickley couldn’t believe he’d done that to him.

His breath hitched softly when Rick beckoned him to a kiss, slowly moving up to press their lips together firmly. He wrapped his arms around Rick and kissed him with so much passion, desperate to show him how much he loved him, somehow.

“I love you, you’re everything to me, I want you, only you!” Rickley was breathing heavily, grasping at words that couldn’t nearly describe the way he felt. He was stumbling over his words, mouth not moving fast enough. “You are amazing, I just love you so much, please, I-I, I need you, I need you with me!”

He crashed their lips together again and his chest moved up and down rapidly as he breathed. Rickley couldn’t explain this lovely ache in his chest.

The kiss he leaned into was rough and soft at the same time, painstakingly careful while hastily rushed and clumsy. It was all Rick could do to simply keep up with his partner, eagerly tilting his head to reciprocate hungry lips smoothing over his own. It was like being drunk, like he’d been knocked out in one punch and was subsequently left like this, with cloudy eyes half-lidded and the sensation of buzzing flesh. Even the simple brush of arms coming to rest around his slumped shoulders made his skin break out into goosebumps - but the pleasure was incomparable to how Rickleys’ mouth tasted like him, slickening their messy lips.

“Haaah~” He moaned out in a plume of steam when he finally caught the chance, one lazy eyelid blinking a few seconds before the other. What was Rickley saying?

Oh, god, he was only saying the - the most cripplingly sweet things he’d ever heard, too much to communicate crammed into short exhales. Those eyes told all that his tongue couldn’t manage, didn’t they? So radiantly blue and pure and - and trained on him in admiration. Rickley spoke with so much honesty, convincing him that he meant something, and it - It made him feel warm inside and content, like he was important, like he was….

Like he was really loved. “I-I–!“

It was kind of funny, how a few simple words could knock the air right out of his lungs. In fact, neither of them could seem to get their breathing patterns evened out. Rick couldn’t resist letting his gaze wander down and over his partners’ marred chest as it swelled and fell, focus gravitating towards small breasts that were usually always concealed under baggy clothes.

Rickley had such an unbearably pretty body, every little nick and scar reminiscent of a brush stroke on a piece of fine art.

God damn. How’d he ever manage to get this lucky?

“Hhh, I-I! I n-need you too, baby, oh god, I need you…!” The arms encircling his torso were so nice, and the lithe form looming over his hips - he wanted it closer. He needed Rickley so damn much that he could feel the ache rooted deep down in his bones. “B-baby, come hhhold me, just l-let me–“

Guiding his lover with rubbery arms, Rick eased Rickley into his lap so that he was straddling naked hips and shimmery thighs comfortably. A part of Rick could swear that he could still feel the ghost of a warm cheek laying against his femoral artery affectionately, so kind.

He just wanted to give it back, make Rickley feel as important as he really was, and - and good. Rough hands glided over lower back, appreciating curves in light caresses, trying to take in the fine details of how his lover eased in against his bare flesh. They were so similar, yet so different, like they wee made to fit. “I-I’ve always n-nnneeded you.”

Their eyes locked for a moment, broken only when Rick batted heavy lashes and closed the distance between them. Slowly, he started pressing light kisses down opposite sternum, letting their trajectory wander with the seams of scar tissue and lines of borderline emaciated ribs. With the utmost care, he laid muted smecks over one breast, and then the other, taking note of how the cushioning puddled under the slightest pressure. With an audiably unsteady breath, Rick selaciously dragged a bottom lip over Rickleys’ collarbone and up his neck, finishing its’ course with pecks settling along his jugular. So gentle, so cautious.

“Yyyyou taste so good~” he commented in a hoarse whisper, inches away from the shell of an ear. “E-everything about you is, is s-so perfect, R-Rickley, it’s like…“ He massaged the dimples in the back of narrow hips with fingertips, thumbs able to rest on the ridges of his pelvis at the same time. “It’s like you get me high when I-I’m with you, y-y-you do something to me, babe, I-I can’t explain, I just, hnn–”

He leaned his temple against clavicle, mouth brushing over idolized imperfections in skin when he talked. “I w-wanna give you e-everything you wwwant, Rickley~“ he admitted, turning his face up so that he could convey something more with a gaze that practically oozed romanticism. "E-everything~”

Rickley almost couldn’t bare the way that Rick looked at him, so intense, eyes practically sparkling like stars. It made Rickley self conscious– he didn’t deserve that type of gaze, looking at him with such love. His chest moved quickly as his breathing stunted in nervousness, and his eyes averted to the side as his cheeks dusted a soft crimson.

He was breathless as he listened to his lover speak with such conviction, so adamant and passionate about his love, it was almost impossible for Rickley not to believe him. Almost. Rickley still knew he was… not good enough for such praises.

Sliding onto Rick’s hips made his detrimental thoughts melt away, and Rickley let out a soft, desperate moan. He wanted Rick to touch him everywhere, see everything, know him better than anyone before. His breath hitched when he felt Rick’s mouth slide across his collar bone suddenly, and he wrapped his legs tighter around his waist. He let out a nervous but pleasured sound at the gentle kisses on his breasts, and he let his eyes fall closed for once. He trusted Rick.

The soft and sensual way he kissed up his chest made him feel so adored, like Rick was praising him in some way. It felt nice, different. The loving praises falling from Rick’s mouth made his heart swell, and he had to fight the emotions threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. The hands on his hips served as a way to keep him grounded, focused on the feeling and not the fear of being anything less than perfect for Rick.

The touching on his upper chest returned and he looked down at his lover with shimmering blues, a small smile on his face. His eyes were clouded with love, lust, and tears.

"Rrrr-Rrriick–! I-I, you mmmake me feel so good.. You make m-my head buzz… Hhappy.. I feel warm wh-when I’m with you I, lllove you so much…!”

He sniffled and stared into his eyes. “Please mmmake me f-feel nice, please, I love you…!”

This was - this was something else, a taste of divinity on a troubled earth. Rickley had the power to keep him wrapped around his pinky finger, completely absorbed by everything about him, and didn’t even know it. How could anyone resist being drawn to those delicate features, all pinched in pleasure? Rick chewed his lip briefly, noting how the thin body atop his was as malleable as clay under the influence of careful hands, so trusting.

He liked it. Maybe more than he’d liked anything before.

Every action was rewarded with its own twitch or tremble, soft whines and selacious moans serving as encouragements to press on. It was easy to read each other’s body language, as familiar as looking into a mirror. The way Rickley closed his eyes while he was covered with kisses, how he leaned into explorative touches and conveyed so much desire in one telling gaze…

“Hhhhh…” The color rushed to Ricks’ cheeks in a wash of heat so fast that he was sure the raging blush had to be obvious. Did - did Rickley just ask for–? Did he really want him to–?

By the way he looked at him so dreamily, how thighs wrapped around his waist and suggestively pinned his sides so securely, Rickley just had to mean it. Ricks’ light grip on his partners hips tightened into an affirming squeeze, one that mimicked the odd restriction in his lungs. “O-oh, babe.”

The request made his heart th-thump hard enough that Rick wasn’t sure his ribcage could contain it. If Rickley wanted to feel nice, he’d make him feel more than nice, he - he’d do everything he could to make him feel so goddamn special.

Anything for his one and only Rickley.

“Oh, Rrrrickley, y-y-you’re my - my king, my baby blue…” he admitted through a soft smile that crinkled his eyes, raising a hand to Rickleys’ face and tracing a thumb just below his cheekbone tenderly, as if appreciating the details of a beautiful statue. “A-aaand I’ll make you feel like it~”

The promise was backed by a swath of muffled smooches that rained down wherever they could reach with passionate persistence, littering the plane of Rickleys’ shuddery torso with soft lips and stubbley brushes of rough chin. They paid special attention to the curvature in collarbone, sucked lightly on pinkish nipples, occasionally brushing teeth or sucking harder on sensitive spots but always becoming painstakingly soft wherever a scar ran too deep. When he inhaled, he could close his eyes and swear that he could smell something familiar and calming wafting off of Rickleys’ skin; when he released air amidst speech, his breath billowed over the space between breasts warmly.

When he finally stopped to talk, it felt like he could barely form words. “B-b-babe, do yyy - you trust me?” He curled an arm around Rickleys’ lower back, cupping his butt and bringing their nearly bare bodies flush. Without anything but Rickleys’ slacks in the way, he could feel every time the smaller man stiffened and relaxed. Rick petted his spine, trying to make his love feel safe and protected in his arms. “Hhh-hold on to me, tight.”

It took some effort, but by hugging Rickley against his chest and his partner in turn clinging to him, Rick managed to wriggle awkwardly and flip their positions in the laid-back passenger seat. He set Rickley down on his back, hips inadvertently positioned thrust forward between spread legs.

Pushing himself up on his still sort of shaky arms, Rick paused to take in the sights below him, so captivating and gorgeous; the way Rickley looked at this angle, in this lighting made him look unreal. Like a dream.

“Y-you’re so pretty, babe,” he breathed, parted lips dancing across the space between shoulder and chest as he eased back onto his creaky knees. Kneeling on the floor, he cupped behind Rickleys’ ribs with both hands. It was easier to cover his stomach in kisses like this, starting at the solar plexus and working his way down stringy abdomen until he reached bellybutton.

“Is - is this…” Half-lidded eyes flicked down at Rickleys’ body as hands wandered, sliding over sensitive nerves until one intertwined fingers with Rickleys’, the rings of scar tissue on their wrists matching up like two halves of one whole. The other drew deft fingertips down, traveling dangerously close to Rickleys’ waistband in slow circles. He pressed a peck to the first dustings of hair trailing up from the button of his pants, turning his focus upwards to search Rickleys’ expression. “Is - is this okay, Rrrrickley?”

Rickley was eager and nervous at the same time, his nerves jumbling up and making his heart race. Rick’s gentle touch to his cheek made his heart jump. It was as if this was their first time together, it felt so new and gentle and just overall nice. Rickley was almost afraid to breathe, not wanting to mess anything up. Rick’s words melt his heart into a puddle, and he let out a needy whine as he clung to him in response.

As chapped lips grazed against his sensitive skin, Rickley twitched and let out gasping breaths, so unfamiliar with such a gentle touch. He could’ve cried, it felt so wonderful. When Rick’s lips wrapped around his pink nipples, Rickley jerked slightly and closed his eyes, a quiet moan slipping from his shell pink lips. A dusting of a rosey red was painted across his pale, scarred cheeks. Those seafoam blues were closed in bliss as Rick continued to practically worship his body.

Rickley’s eyes fell open at Rick’s question, and he let out a hot breath and nodded, “O-Of course I trust you,” he whispered, not trusting his voice enough to speak any louder. He whined, breathy and soft, as Rick pressed their bodies together flushly, following Rick’s request to hold onto him tightly. The whine turned into a surprised yelp as their bodies flipped, and Rick was now on top of him. Rickley wasn’t complaining.

Rickley didn’t take compliments well, not even from the one he loved and trusted the most. He pressed a hand to his lips in shyness, eyes looking to the side. He wasn’t pretty, not to himself. His body was too skinny, too marred. Those thoughts stuck with him even as Rick kissed down his abdomen, across scars that held way too many stories and bad memories.

As their hands intertwined, Rickley forced those bad thoughts away to enjoy the way those fingers felt, dusting so closely to the heated ache between his legs. He mindlessly gripped onto Rick’s hands when reached for, hazy eyes moving to look down at him. What a silly question, of course this was okay–

Rick was so sweet to him.

“Y–yyyyes, this is– oh– this is w-wonderful, Rick, I.. c-continue, please,” Rickley whimpered, staring down into his lover’s eyes. “I l-love you.”

The way that Rickleys’ unwaivering gaze stayed faithfully settled on him had Rick convinced he was about this close to having the wind knocked right out of his chest. Was it really his fault for being short of breath? That telltale cloudy-eyed expression, the one that communicated trust mixed with pleading made Rickley just that much more stunning. How could someone be so goddamn perfect in every way?

His lovers’ affirmations made the already soft sparkle in Ricks’ eyes grow that much more deeply fond, reducing the cold blue of his irises down to shimmery pools of mushy admiration. Truth be told, he wouldn’t rather be anywhere but here, sitting squarely between Rickleys’ legs with baited breath, mind buzzing with the lewdest thoughts…

“R-RRRickley…” The hands clasping one others’ squeezed fingers gently, reaffirming their bond through the pressure of warm palms. “I-I-I love you too, babe,” Rick sighed quietly, pressing a blush-streaked cheek affectionately against that half a leg, rubbing a thumb across the metal button on Rickleys’ pants and cheekily flicking it undone. “Baby blue, y-you know I-I do.”

This had to be special. He - he wanted to give Rickley his everything, his all. Nobody deserved it more, he’d never loved somebody so bad that it hurt, never wanted to make someone squirm in ecstasy so much… Evoking those quiet sighs and whimpers was all that Rick could ever ask for.

So why did he still feel this ball of anxiety in his guts? The butterflies in his stomach kicked up doubletime, formed by equal parts arousal and nervousness that didn’t quite sit well together.

It was probably nothing. Maybe he was afraid of not doing enough, maybe it’d been so long since he’d done this that he wasn’t entirely sure he remembered how to do this, or maybe…

Maybe, just maybe it was the amputated remnants of what had once been a perfectly functionable limb currently sitting next to his shoulder, abruptly cut off where the severed knee should’ve extended into shin. Ricks’ eyes settled on it for a brief moment before looking away, back up at Rickleys’ reassuring gaze.

It was okay, just like he’d said before. Rickley had already told him not to linger on the past, even if it was hard sometimes. Focus on the here and now, on being here and putting effort into laying the love on Rickley -

On giving the best goddamn head he could give.

“Rrrickley, just - just remember…” He raised his partners’ brittle hand and pressed lips to his bony knuckles in a gentlemanly gesture. “You call th-the shots, babe. W*eeugh*hatever you, whatever you want, just s-say it and it’s yours~”

Everything was for him. Ricks’ voice grew quieter behind a lovestruck, docile smile, trying to convey how much he meant it. “I’m yours, R-Rickley.“

Drawing in a shaky breath, Rick didn’t hesitate to lean down and press tender kisses on the divets between Rickleys’ hips as he undid the clasp on the belt that kept pants secured on his skinny frame. He took it slow and easy, trying not to overwhelm his partner too much at once, half lidded eyes trailing up to check that everything was still okay as he hood thumbs through the belt loops. "E-easy…”

Wiggling Rickleys hips side to side in the seat, Rick worked the fabric down over his bottom, taking care to suggestively press lips to each gradually exposed inch of skin down the length of his happy trail. The slacks slipped down further and further, revealing usually hidden marks and small thighs, a delicate knee and a gruesome scar where that magled leg had been removed;

Rick ran his rough hands over the soft skin of inner thighs, coaxing the muscles therein into relaxing. He pushed gently to spread them apart, laying smecks along where arteries ran, trying his damndest to pace himself even though the pull of desire was getting stronger. He just wanted Rickley to be comfortable, wanted to caress every inch.

Stopping the path of his lips just short of the warmth nestled between his partners’ thighs, Rick leaned back and paused to drink in the moment. It was supposed to be romantic, he was suppose to say something charming and seductive –

But Rick just couldn’t prevent his curiosity from beelining his attention straight down between Rickleys’ scarred legs. “Hhh…”

Oh god, he was speechless. Had - had he ever really gotten a good look at Rickley up close like this before? He was as intimately seashell pink as those tempting lips were, a pastel offset by blue fuzz; Rick could feel himself salivating already in anticipation, heart beating so fast that he was rendered almost lightheaded.

The hand not bound to Rickleys’ cautiously traced splayed fingers over a jutting hip, traveling down on the inside crease of a leg and gingerly pulling skin with a thumb to expose Rickley a little further. “S-so pretty~”

Was he - was he already wet? Rick felt a twinge in his abdomen that felt like giddiness. “F-fffuck, Rickley…”

The moan left him in a hot breath, one that tickled over the most sensitive parts of Rickleys’ body. His lover was so gorgeous when he was all red in the face like this. “Haaah-have I ever told you how, how perfect you are?“

Guiding Rickleys’ full leg over his shoulder where it could rest, Rick wrapped an arm around it in a loose yet secure embrace. It might be… difficult for him to stay relatively still through the things that Rick had in mind. “I-I’ve got you, y-you’re alright,” he cooed, rubbing the thigh in small circles. “Hold on t-to my hand b-babe, ‘cause I’m gonna m-make you see sparks~”

There was something undeniably lusty embedded in the low tone his rough voice dipped into, nearly a growl. He wanted this just as bad as Rickley did, maybe more. If he didn’t get a taste soon, he'd–

Letting half lidded eyes fall closed, Rick pressed his mouth down and put it to good work, extending a slick tongue and swirling it over Rickleys’ clit, languid and hot. “Haaanh~”

Rickley was nervous in a good way, body trembling with anticipation as he looked down at Rick, pink tinted face graced with a little smile. Just the gentle, affectionate touches Rick gave him were enough to sate his desire, just wanting his love to be there. Though, Rickley couldn’t deny that he wanted more.

The love he felt was nearly overwhelming. Rick was so kind and so gentle and he couldn’t get nearly enough of it.  
Baby blue. He liked the sound of that. He smiled again, a bit wider and blushed heavily as his button was undone. He bit his bottom lip, thighs trembling.

Rickley didn’t really expect the gentle gesture that came next, the kiss to his cold hand and the soft words that followed. It affirmed more concretely that Rickley could say no if he wanted to. He didn’t. He wanted this to happen. He trusted Rick with everything– he knew that.

He helped Rick pull off his slacks slightly, hips lifting as his partner pulled them down his skinny thighs. When they were finally discarded, Rickley let out a soft and nervous breath, so soft and shy. His breath increased as his thighs were spread apart, quivering at the feeling of soft kisses on scarred skin. He wasn’t used to the gentleness, the lack of violence. He loved this.

Rickley could feel Rick pull away and then stare down at his heat, and he let out a nervous laugh and moved to cover his face in embarrassment. The praise was too much for him, and his heart swelled with happiness and love. He couldn’t believe half of the words but it was more believable coming from Rick’s lips.

Rickley didn’t have much time to react to Rick’s promise of him seeing sparks, but he held on tightly to Rick’s hand anyway. Only a moment later, though, Rickley was jerking softly and holding in soft whines. He didn’t think anyone had ever done this to him before, and if someone had, he couldn’t remember.

"O-O-Oh, Riiick, I, R-Riiiick,” he whimpered, legs shaking already.

High pitched keens pouring out over Rickleys’ parted lips was all the evidence Rick needed to know that he was definitely doing something right. The way those thighs quivered under the influence of his moist tongue tugged the corners of Ricks’ lips into a borderline devilish smile, one that sat beneath lusty eyes that expressed every ounce of hopelessly deep love. He’d have these legs about the consistency of jelly and shaking hard by the time he was done, that much was for sure.

Forearms cupped the back of his partners’ thin legs, trying to cradle Rickley in the most comfortable position of recline that he could while he picked up the pace, pushed forward a little harder. Rickley deserved to relax and enjoy being treated right for once, worshipped wholeheartedly and with unshaken devotion; something Rick practically oozed as he gazed up at his lover from between lithe thighs like he was made of solid fucking gold.

The pull of sticky lips worked to unwravel Rickley with each light suck that made quiet sounds that mimicked kisses, occasionally broken by hot breaths and eager, deep moans that aided a little vibration in just the right places.

“Haah, baby, y-you taste sssso good~” he complimented, keeping a purposefully short span of time between hindering speech and the all-important skillful swishes of tongue across dainty, silky folds. “C-can’t get enough of yyyou, love you ssso bad~“

Their hands stayed tied together in a knitting of even fingers, never straying from their union for even a moment. Rick could appreciate how Rickleys’ was a little smaller, how he held on to his hand like an anchor in a roiling sea through every increasingly adamant taste taken, every tilt of the head and accurate finesse;

“Mmmmn~” It was starting to take some effort to hold onto that thigh with the other arm, stroking a rough palm over it gently as he tryied to keep some semblance of control while Rickley twitched and bucked against his hot mouth. “You - do you l-l-like that, baby~?”

Rickley’s trembling frame seemed so small like this, so vulnerable. He wasn’t scared, though, and all thoughts of nervousness left his head when Rick began to suck. Rickley let out a long moan, his thighs quivering with effort to stay still.

“Riiiiickk!” He cried out, biting down on his lip as he held even tighter onto his lover’s hand. Overwhelmed, tears sprang into his eyes and began to flood down his cheeks. He was smiling, trying to keep his eyes open so he could see Rick.

As Rick sucked a bit harder, pushing forward, Rickley whimpered and sighed. He was trembly and happy and he just felt so goddamn good, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He kept his hold on Rick’s hand tight, unwilling to let go for even a moment. He could feel that buildup already, unable to hold it back because Rick was just so damn sweet and gentle and hot, he couldn’t help it.

His voice, his breath, his words– Rickley was in heaven and Rick was god. He wanted to last longer but that just wasn’t an option, he couldn’t even answer Rick’s low voiced question, he was just too wrapped up in the pleasure.

The coil in his stomach unfurled and his thighs shook hard as he pressed himself up against Rick’s warm mouth again, crying out his name loudly. His breath was labored and his face was flushed and he just felt so fucking good.

He was crying harder, the sensation so overwhelming he was probably hurting Rick’s hand by how hard he was squeezing it. He let out whimpering sobs, “I love you, I love you, you’re ssso good, so good, I love you, I love you…!!”

Goddamn, did he love hearing Rickley call out his name juuuust like that.

As the body below him tensed up and shook, Rick held on to that one thigh tight, helping Rickley ride out the waves as they washed over him. Their hands clung together faithfully, never faltering for a second, even if Rick was fairly sure his fingers were going numb from being squeezed so hard.

Judging by the way Rickley practically sobbed in pleasure, Rick really couldn’t blame him for choking the life out of his palm. He’d take it without a single complaint - his mouth was still too busy to waste time on talking, anyway.

By the time that Rickley finally found himself spent, Rick was about this close to getting a cramp in his jaw, but he was satisfied. Awarding a final parting kiss before separating himself, he sucked in a much needed breath of air. A strand of especially sticky saliva bridged from a bottom lip to between his partners’ legs, which he broke with a flick of the tongue. “Hah, y-you’re so… B-baby?”

Poor Rickley was so overwhelmed, face streaked in salty tears and a raging blush. He hadn’t lasted long, quick to dissolve into a whiny, whimpery puddle, and… Well, Rickley probably hadn’t… hadn’t been treated quite like this before.

“Hhhah… Baby, I-I love you, it’s okay,” he reassured, running a hand along a heaving side as he stood on his knees to boost his height, leaning towards Rickleys’ hauntingly pretty face. “S-shhh, calm down, I-I’ve got you…“

Peculiarly wet lips swept over pink cheeks, trying to clear away the tear tracks that defined his features. They were salty and sweet, satisfying and homely;

Until his wandering kisses found their way to Rickleys’ mouth, quieting him down with a muffled groan. “Mmh~”

Trying to stay close, Rick drew Rickley close and crawled into the same seat, carefully bending limbs in a tangle of arms and slick legs until they were chest to trembling chest. To think he’d been so afraid of ever feeling this way again, lighthearted and breathless…

Brushing a stray lock of blue hair out of Rickleys’ eyes, Rick spoke quietly. “A-are we… okay now?” He asked in a barest whisper, almost scared of hearing the answer.

Drawing upon his brevity, Rick coaxed a thumb over his partners’ jawline. “I-I want… I want to be honest w-with you, f-from here on out. No more secrets, R-Rrrrickley, okay?“ He offered the shakiest of smiles, knowing damn well how thin his promises sounded. He really meant it, though. “I-I wanna trust you. I-III want you to trust me a-aaagain.”


	5. Forget You All the Time (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i believe this was the last rp that happened before i stopped roleplaying, it wasn't finished. this was after the events of the previous chapters-- a lot happened in between and Rickley got some cool memory loss problems. woo!

Work hadn’t been easy today.

Then again, nothing really was. Considering the odds stacked against him these days, an honest occupation that forced positive interaction with the simple minded and easily agitated public was the least of his problems. For instance, he still had to carry all these heavy ass groceries in, let the dogs out, take care of Rickley –

Oh, Rickley.

That was it, right there. That was the motivator, the one who really kept him going. The person who could make him feel like his old self, bring about that strange sense of inherent inner peace that was so awfully hard to find anywhere the else.

It was a… a side effect, one of those things that just kind of stuck. Thing was, once you get comfortable inside someone’s mind, you just never quite get out of it.

Something told Rick that he wouldn’t rather have it any other way.

For Rickley, he could shake off the old tiredness that dogged on his heels, keep bright eyes over the dark circles under them that kept getting blacker and blacker in the mirrors reflection. Through and though, Rick loved his baby blue - He always felt giddy in these moments right before he made it inside their little house, like he couldn’t get back to Rickley fast enough. He’d been waiting all day just to see him, what felt like an eternity in customer service hell, and - and he always looked forward to this exact pinpointed moment each and every day, starting the second he left for work in the first place. Seeing Rickley.

The 24-pack case of cheap beer he’d lugged out of the car and up to the leaf-dotted front porch sat firmly against his hip, the other hand fumbling eagerly with the keys and shoving them in the lock.

The smile that crossed his face from ear to ear was unbridled, nothing but excitement. God, he couldn’t wait to see Rickley in the front room, waiting on him to come home, remembering him this time, just maybe remembering him, just this one time.

His smile almost faltered.

Maybe this time. Maybe next.

Drawing in a steady breath through his nose, Rick pushed open the door with a creeeak. “R-Rickleeeey!”

“BARK BARK BORF”

“Baby, I-I’m - big dog, hush! - Baby, I’m home from woooork…” 

That morning, Rickley had been so focused on keeping the thoughts in his head– Rick was going to work, and he would come back soon. He had been so determined on keeping the name in his head but after hours of being alone the memories slipped away and he didn’t even notice it.

Rickley knew he forgot things, important things, and he couldn’t help but feel terrible when he saw that look on Rick’s face when he forgot his name, just there for a split second before melting into a forced smile.

Today had started out as a good day but went downhill quickly. The Big Dog had helped him a lot, showing him where to go and helping him get things, but that didn’t make it any less confusing.

Remembering was hard, but had gotten easier when Rick put sticky notes on everything, set the alarms on his phone. He rarely missed his medication now, but that was just because of his alarm. He’d be helpless without it.

Rickley sat in his wheelchair, peering out behind a wall as he watched Big Dog bark at the familiar person who walked in. The man called his name and he thought this must be Rick. In a miracle of events, he’d manage to find the name somewhere deep in his head and he wheeled out slowly, nervously.

“U-uuhm, are you.. aaare you, R-Rick?” he asked quietly, fidgeting and looking down. He felt his heart ache and knew that they had a strong connection. He was just missing so many things in his head that he had to ask, had to make sure.

“Y…” The word died prematurely halfway out of his mouth, and he blinked in sheer surprise - hearing his name took him off guard. Rick had learned to always prepare to get his heart briefly kicked every time he came home, but not today.

The biggest, dumbest grin pulled at the corners of his mouth, gaze going soft and understanding. Rickley was really trying to get it right, recalling his name with such little confidence. Maybe that meant he was getting better, his medicines were working. “Y-y-yes! You remembered, R-Rickley! Hah…”

This might be the best after work present he could ask for. It’d been a while since he’d heard the correct name right off the bat, even if it was part of a very unsure sounding question. He’d take what he could get. Sometimes it took hours or even days for that much to stick.

He set the heavy case of bottles down with a clunk on the wood floor, beaming tiredly at wheelchair-bound Rickley as he approached a little closer, dropping down to his knees before tossing arms around the thinnest of frames he’d come to know so well. “Oh, b-babe, I-I’m so glad! I - IIII couldn’t stop th-thinking about you today, I m-missed you so much…”

He could stay here forever, forehead pressed against Rickleys’ bony sternum. He could relax here, let his shoulders slump and release a contented sigh; he wanted to lay down and breathe in this familiar scent, even out the rise and fall of their chests until they were in perfect time, tangle up their limbs in a mockery of the way they’d been before in the water.

This felt good. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, Rick could swear he could feel almost everything, near or far from Rickley - but when they were close enough to touch, the sensation was always good. Centering. Like coming back home.

They could stay just like this and he wouldn’t mind. But he was being swamped by all three excitable dogs, cold noses and licks and snorts interrupting the peace of the moment.

“H-hey!” He finally protested with a laugh, shoving away one of their playful bundles of fur. “Ripley, down! Puggo, quit!”

It was funny. Even with the welcoming commitee surrounding him, he couldn’t help but feel a little twinge of sympathy when he looked back up at Rickley, all frail and small. He was so pretty, trying so hard. As hard as he could.

“R-Rickley, did you take care of yourself today?” Probably not. If it weren’t for his expensive therapy dog, he probably wouldn’t have moved. “I-I got your favorite for dinner – mac and cheese and chicken nuggets a-aaand that beer you like…! Does th-that sound good?”

Rickley knew he must have done something right when he saw the genuine happiness cross Rick’s face. He looked up at him with clear blue eyes and gave him a little smile. He didn’t remember much else than the name right now– except that he and Rick were lovers– but that seemed enough for Rick right now.

“I-I-I m-missed you, t-too,” he stammered, pausing to find the words in his jumbled mind, “U-uhm, the alarms on my ph-phone helped me,” he pointed out, letting out a soft sigh when Rick pressed against him. He felt so much better now that he was home, like he knew where he was. The house wasn’t a home unless Rick was with him– holding him, touching him.

Rickley jerked his head to the side to look at the pups, often forgetting that they had three of them, not just Big Dog. He stared at them for a moment before blinking back up to Rick, brain slow as a snail.

Rick’s question had him trying to remember what he did that day, rubbing the side of his head. He decided that he couldn’t really go into detail, everything too fuzzy or blank to recall. “Y-yeah,” he replied simply, wrapping skinny arms around himself.

He wasn’t really hungry, but Rickley nodded, wheeling closer to Rick. He reached out a hand to cling to his sleeve, cold hands white knuckled on the fabric. He didn’t like being out of contact with him for a long time, it made him anxious and afraid, and he was especially vulnerable after the long day of being without him.

“D-Do you h-hhave to work tomorrow?” he asked softly, something he asked too often, a frown painted on his thin face.

The tug of that iron grip on his sleeve didn’t go unnoticed. Pausing for a moment where he stood, Rick slipped his free hand into Rickleys’ small one, comparatively warm fingers gently squeezing around his partners’ in a way that he could only hope was comforting enough.

Rickley, he was always so… so scared. It was all in the lost look on his face, the dimmest recognition in those seafoam eyes - He didn’t remember a thing from today. He never did.

With the utmost care, Rick turned to face the confused man in the wheelchair with a soft smile, running a rough thumb over a delicate cheek littered in subtle scars. The gesture was equally soothing to him, too, it just… felt nice, the simple contact between them. He’d ache for it again all too soon.

“Y-yeah, I… I gotta go to w-work tomorrow too, baby.” Truth was, it took a lot of hours to add up to enough money to support this simple lifestyle. Rickleys’ expenses added up fast, every payment gradually climbing higher than the last. It was hard to keep up with, considering that the days of eccentric genius and massive drug operations were over with. They didn’t even have a portal gun anymore, much less the intact memory of how to make one, which… Which meant that they were normal now, or at least as close as they could hope to come.

“I’m, I’m sorry, R-Rickley, d-don’t feel sad.“ He stroked a thumb pad just below an eye, sighing quietly. “I-I’m yours f-for the whooole rest of the night.”

Smeck. He pressed lips to a cheek briefly before pulling away. “Aaall yours. Okay?” Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. “C-c'mon, babe, it’s fine, let’s - let’s go crack open a few cold ones a-aaand I’ll make you dinner, a-alright?”

Offering a final squeeze to the frail hand cradled in his, Rick made short work of wheeling Rickley into the kitchen. It wasn’t like their house was big, or anything special - it was just enough room for the two of them to be comfortable. That was all they really needed.

It was a ritual, at this point. Rick put Rickley where he usually liked to be, set the groceries down on the table, stripped his work vest off, let the dogs out the back door into the yard, put a pot of water on the stove. He was almost getting used to this, but mostly everything just felt like extra steps that stood between him and Rickleys’ together time. He caught himself rushing through everything, every day, trying to buy a few more minutes.

He popped the tops to two bottles of cheap beer, put the top on the pot and plopped down in a chair next to Rickley, reaching over to hold his hand again. “Here, baby, i-it’s your favorite kind,” he reminded casually, helping a hand wrap around the brown bottle. Rick raised his own, sipping on it idly while they waited on the water to boil. He could drink his weight in these.

“So, I, uh…” A thumb brushed over Rickleys’ skinny knuckles. They were close enough for their knees to touch. “I m-might’ve gotten you a present today, R-Rickley. But I dunno if - if you’ll like it. Heh.”

Rickley didn’t say anything when Rick went to hold his hand, only moving to squeeze it softly and get closer to him. The lights in the house were too bright right now, and he just wanted to go somewhere dark and lie with Rick for a while.

The thoughts left his mind as easily as they had come in when Rick answered his question, and now his brain was focused on the fact that he would be alone again. It worried him, and he chewed on his bottom lip harshly, blinking rapidly. He wasn’t gonna be upset. He wouldn’t let himself be upset, don’t fuss about this, Rickley.

He took in a breath and looked down, leaning into the kiss on his cheeks. He listened to what Rick said silently, nodding his head and keeping his eyes downcast. He didn’t like when Rick pulled his hand away. He missed it.

The lights in the kitchen were even brighter, and he squinted his eyes a bit before deciding to just close them altogether. Rickley laid his head on the table when he was pushed close enough, looking up at Rick and watching him prepare dinner. He raised his head only when he came back to gently hand him the beer. Rickley took it without hesitation.

Rickley took a couple gulps of the beer and hummed, content. He was happy that Rick was touching his hands again, and he looked up with foggy blues that seemed to avoid Rick’s eyes.

“A-A p-p-present?” Rickley said softly, finally reaching eye contact with his partner. “R-Really?”  
He smiled a little bit, happy that Rick thought of him when he was out. “I-I will like i-iit!”

The tone of excitement in Rickleys’ meek voice brought a slight tinge of pink to Ricks’ features. It was good to hear him sound so inclined and interested, something other than so confused and goddamn sad.

That look in his eyes, the recognizable shimmer in those baby blues… They made his heart beat faster. Drew him right in like a moth to a flame.

“Y-yeah, baby, I-I-I – !” He stammered dumbly, pausing to clear his throat harshly and take a swig off of his beer, proceeding to bring his volume down to something’s little more manageable. “I-I just- I got you a-aaa little something that came f-from the, the Quoark Nebula, R-Rickley.“

Oh boy. Rick could feel himself starting to jumble up syllables in nervousness. "Y-you know I l-lllove you like you are, but, I thought, y-y'know, since y-yyyou don’t like ‘em and all…”

Out of one of the paper grocery bags he’d brought home came a little round tub of what looked like expensive lotion, all gold lettering and pink glass. Except… It was more than that. In alien font, with a crudely translated English phrase beneath it, read ’SCAR HEALING CREAM’. “.. M-maybe th-this’d make you happy.”

Rick couldn’t help but lean a little closer, let his palm smooth over Rickleys’ knuckles affectionately. Every brush of contact made him feel warm all over, sort of tingly in a wholesomely comfortable way. Like they belonged. “W-we could try it, i-if you want? Uh…”

Now he was the one avoiding eye contact, sheepish and shy in the presence of the one he adored. It felt like his skin was aching. “A-after the bath?”

A soft noise left his lips as he stared down at the gift that rested in Rick’s palm. His head tilted slightly and he reached a hand out while the other when the cover his mouth. Could it really work?

"Yyyyou–” Rickley’s voice caught, “I-I–!” He couldn’t get a sentence out, too overwhelmed with emotions. Maybe it would work, maybe he’d feel better again, maybe, maybe…  
“I c-can’t believe.. th..thhhank you sso muucch!” He finally managed, his pretty blue eyes wavering with tears. Tears of happiness.

Rickley squeezed Rick’s hand tighter, excitement twinkling in his eyes. “I-I want to try i-it, nnnow, j-j-just a little b-bit? Pplease? Please, please…” He hummed and continued to hold Rick’s hand. He wanted to be closer to him.

“I-I wwwant to be closer,” he expressed softly, blinking slowly and letting out a soft sigh. “I miss yyou… You.. You m-make me so happy, so happy, thank you..”

The breath in Ricks’ chest hitched a little. Oh no. For a split second, it looked like Rickley was about to start outright crying, and it scared the hell out of him.

Thats when Rick could feel it starting, as reliable as clockwork – The cloudiness in his vision that accompanied a stinging rush of thick tears that made everything swim. He tried to blink it away, but the tears lingered - just like they did in Rickleys’ seafoam blues, the ones that threatened to well over any second now. Shit, did he bring home something upsetting?

“I-is it bad? R-Rickley, I-I’m sorry, I… W-wait, really?“

Rick swore he could feel his chest swell a little. It wasn’t that Rickley didn’t like it - it was just that he liked it so much. He… he really took to the gift, the eyes that looked it over as bright as twinkling stars. Rickley seemed so like himself when he smiled, when his mind was here.

Maybe it was a little too exciting. Rick had to put in some effort to break the giddy grin plastered to his features, trying to hold out on the priorities at hand. “Babe, hey! Y-you gotta eat first, right? You gotta uh, we… uh…”

That insistent grip on his hand was distracting, so warm and soft and intimately familiar. Something as simple as a brush of skin on skin was enough to make him shiver in anticipation, squirm in his seat.

“Oh, R-Rickley…” He sighed dreamily, eyelids falling halfway over tired eyes. He couldn’t say no to Rickley. He’d never stood a chance. “I-I-I missed you too.“

He meant it in more than one way. The truth was, he didn’t know how long this flash of relative clarity would last, how long his name would be remembered. He wanted nothing more than to spend a while with the Rickley that knew him, curl up in the kind of close that made everything feel okay again.

“Ahem! A-alright, baby blue, f-for you.” Anything for Rickley. He leaned over and pressed a brief kiss to the corner of pink lips, painstakingly gentle. “Y-you call th-the shots, babe.“

Yeah. They needed their alone time to come a little early tonight. Everything else could afford to wait for a while. Rick swiftly finishished his beer, turned the burners off, left the door cracked so the dogs could get in – trying to get it all over with so he wouldn’t have to worry about anything but Rickley –

Who he scooped up out of his chair, holding him close as he carried him. Rickley was so light in his arms, maybe too frail but still perfect in every way. Things were getting better, bit by bit. “I-I got you, shhh…”

Their bathroom was small and quaint, just like the rest of the house. It was easier for Rickley to figure things out that way, when things were minimal and conveniently compact. It was just big enough for two people to stand, the majority of the floor taken up by a tub that they could barely squeeze into together.

The counter was barely enough surface for Rickley to be set down without him falling into the sink. They wanted to be sure that they could see the results in the mirror, right? “Th-theeeere you go.” He squinted at the back of the tub of cream. “I-it says uh, it’s best after a-aaa shower. Hah.” As if they ever took those anymore. They’d both developed peculiar water phobias, and only warded off the panic by staying together.

That settled it, then. Rick turned on the warm water. “D-do you want bubbles?”

Rickley’s mind was fixated on trying this new remedy for his scars. He wasn’t focused on the ever insistent hunger that always pinched in his stomach or the weakness that came with not having enough nutrients to move quickly at all. His movements were always slow and tired and heavy, which is why he mostly relied on Rick and his dog to help him.

The tears that had welled in his eyes faded quickly with a new excitement that they would go and try it now. He was glad that Rick wasn’t going to force him to eat before they tried it, he was too excited and too nervous, anyway.

Being in Rick’s arms was comforting, and he snuggled into him, small frame seeming even smaller compared to Rick’s broad shoulders and large hands. He gripped onto Rick’s sleeve weakly, as if holding him there so he would never leave, fear planted somewhere back in his mind that maybe he still would one day. Rickley didn’t realize that he was so afraid of that, though, it only came out in small things. Small things like holding on too tight and even being surprised when Rick came back at the end of the day. When he could remember, at least.

He blinked up at Rick when he was set on the counter, nodding slowly at his words. He reached over to take Rick’s hand, not wanting to be out of contact with him. “Bubbles. Y-yeah, yeah,” he said softly, tugging Rick closer to hug him. He needed to be close. He needed to be in Rick’s arms.

They were drawn together by an unspoken instinct, a refusal to stay separated for anything more than a moment. Rick found his fingers intertwining with Rickleys’ without even thinking about it, and he gave a light squeeze of appreciation in return. There was a silent plea for more behind how that smaller hand clung to his own, and Rick was happy to oblige by edging closer.

Resting his hips against the counter, Rick leaned forward towards the promise of Rickleys’ embrace, sighing heavily in content as twiggy arms looped around his shoulders. The muscles in his rigid shoulders unwound, the always slightly knitted brow sitting low on his forehead unfurrowed - his whole person automatically relaxed in those arms.

Sometimes, when he wasn’t with Rickley, his skin ached so bad for this that he felt sick to his stomach. It felt like home.

Rick tried to soak it in, savor the moment, burying his face in Rickleys’ fluffy blue hair and not minding how it tickled his face when he slowly exhaled.

“A-alright…” he started hesitantly, trying to shake the gruff emotional note out of his voice with an ahem as he curled the fingers sitting on Rickleys’ jutting hips into the fabric of his blue sweater. “Arms over y-your head.”

The oversized clothes slipped off of Rickleys’ painfully skinny body without catching once. They were so loose fitting, he was just so small… No matter how much he was encouraged to eat, how much he tried to get Rickley just a little healthier, the progress was slow at best. It felt like a losing battle some days. Rick couldn’t help but let his eyes soften in sympathy as they trailed across overly defined ribs and knobby knees. “Y-you’re so pretty, baby. You know th-that?”

Smooch. Lips brushed right under a somber blue eye. “L-lets get in the water.”

He practically tore off his clothes in his haste, kicking them off to the side carelessly. He avoided looking over Rickleys’ shoulder and into the mirror - he knew he wouldn’t like the tired old man he saw there. He could swear that he stepped out of the vat aged about ten years over what he should be. The consequences of that stress was apparent in every cease and wrinkle.

It didn’t matter. If Rickley could still love him like this, he didn’t have to care about anything else. “Y-you ready, babe?”

It was an important question. Sometimes, they needed a… a minute before stepping into the tub. It was admittedly unpleasant while bizarrely calming at the same time as a consequence of their… Former relationship with water. “H-hold on to me, R-Rickley.”

With one arm supporting his partners’ lower back and one hand outstretched against the wall for balance, Rick carefully stepped foot into the bath and slowly, stiffly sunk them down. “Haah…” His knees creaked and hips popped in protest, but the satisfyingly warm shiver going up his spine was worth the effort.

It really wasn’t so bad once they got past the initial cringe - Rick could feel himself flinch and shudder in time with Rickley before the initial sense of wrongness gave way to comfort. The bubbles were white and soft, Rickley was here, the lights were dim and…

This was nice. Really nice.

Rick rested his head against the crook of his partners’ neck briefly, letting his eyes fall closed and his breathing even out with Rickleys’. In, out. Like they were one person.

“Shhh. I-it’s okay, baby,” he reassured quietly, running damp fingers through overgrown hair. “W-we’re fine.”

Rick wetted a wash cloth and squeezed it out before dragging it over lithe back and bunched shoulders, working his way up until he was dabbing the cloth at delicate features. The droplets had a tendency to catch in the patchwork of scars etched into jaunt pink cheeks, the ones they only hoped could fade. “I-I’m right here…”

Rickley was always nervous about his body, like Rick would somehow decide he didn’t love him once he saw those scars again. But as always, Rick saw his body and praised him, kissed him. Though memories faint, Rickley still smiled and blushed at the affections. But he knew he could never be what he was, he knew it wasn’t enough to just remember a little.

He was ready. But afraid. So he held onto Rick as tightly as he could, trying to keep himself up. Though Rick’s sinewy arms were enough to keep him off the ground too.

As they sunk into the water, Ricklet shivered and shuddered, trying to control his breathing. The gentle shushing from Rick helped, and his breath calmed to a slow pattern, connected with Rick’s.

The washcloth on his back made him jerk in pain, though he knew he needed to be washed, it still hurt terribly. He let out a sigh of relief when it moved to his face, running over flushed cheeks and pink lips.

He could come to expect it now. It didn’t surprise him at all anymore. Every time he would do so much as brush across that angry red X that sat squarely striped across Rickley’s unhealthily defined shoulderblades, there was that recoil. The jolt.

Rick wasn’t sure if it was the predictable gut-punch of debilitating empathy or the noticible degree of pain knotting his partners’ expression that made him want to hold on to those slender sides a little tighter.

“Hey, i-it’s alright…”

It didn’t take but a moment for his partner to be at ease again. Rick was fairly sure that Rickley was catching on to these familiar patterns, the rituals that were monotonous and easy to memorize. He poured water over Rickleys’ hair just like he always did, running haggard fingers through it until the bubbles washed out. He mindfully dabbed the washcloth across long blue lashes and permanent worry lines, treating Rickley as gently as he could. Everything about him seemed so brittle, from his sharp cheekbones to those… those rose petal lips…

If he didn’t more or less obstruct the view with a rub of a washcloth over Rickleys’ forehead, Rick was sure that those dull seafoam eyes might’ve caught his blush. Why did he always look prettiest in steam and bubbles?

They could sit here and soak for hours in a tangle of limbs, content to just be. But they had plans tonight, ones that he knew Rickley was eagerly looking forward to.

God, he just hoped that it worked. Rick wasn’t sure how much disappointment Rickley could take.

A soft press of lips to Rickleys’ brow was meant to rouse him from the sleepy daze of warm water, to catch his dim attention. “Okay, R-Rickley. It’s - it’s time to get out.”

Some days, it was hard to leave these all too brief moments of comfort behind. Rick tried not to let his mind dwell on thoughts about staying for a few minutes longer, opting to bring Rickley to his chest instead and force himself to stand up before he could make a decision.

The drain hissed while they stepped out, dripping wet and quick to get cold. Rick set Rickley down on the countertop, wrapping a towel around his own waist before throwing one over his alternates’ mop of hair and working to dry it off. “Th-there. Good as new, huh?”

He looked small, draped in that oversized, fluffy towel. It reminded him of how they’d been at the beach, all soaked in sea water.

The beach where they fell in love.

The one that Rickley didn’t remember.

Rick swallowed hard, trying not to picture them both dusted in fine white sand, how it would fall out of tussled damp locks like sparkles.

“B-babe… W-whaddya say we try it now, huh?” He suggested in earnest, offering a weak smile as he straightened the towel around the back of Rickleys’ neck. “The scar healing cream?”

It fit into the palm of his hand perfectly, shimmery in the low light. He uncapped it and ran two fingers through it, gathering a generous amount on his fingertips. He set it down and used his other hand to cup one side of Rickleys’ face. “S-stay still for me…”

He smeared it across one marred cheek, coating it in luxurious pink lotion. It effectively filled in little lines and deeper gouges, made his dainty face seem a little smoother already. “I-it’s gonna take a-aaa while to soak in, baby. M-maybe all night…”

Rick kept working at it, running thumb pads over soft skin with devotion; the cream even made the nick across Rickleys’ nose seem so much less severe. Almost like it didn’t happen.

Warm hands found their way down over jawline and behind ears, trailing downwards until palms and loose fingers massaged over thin neck. “Hhh-how much do you uh, w-want me to do?”

Rickley wanted to stay in the water longer, just stay there while his mind was still remembering at least something. The gentle guiding hand of his partner made it easier to get up and let the hazy comfort fall away and disappear like the bubbles down the drain. Rickley stayed quiet as Rick dried him off with a soft towel. His face looked tired and lost, trying to remember what they were doing.

He remembered when Rick mentioned the cream, and he looked up at him with a nod– he wanted to try this. He was excited and nervous and scared, but when the cool cream smoothed over feverishly warm skin, he sighed and let himself relax slightly.

Yeah, he did feel a bit impatient. He wanted it to work fast, but he knew he’d just have to wait. It sucked, but if it worked it would be worth it. His face tingles slightly with the strange feeling of agonizingly slow repairing of skin tissue. He leaned against Rick softly, hugging him softly.

“I d-dunno… I want all of them to go a-away…”

The way those features scrunched in confusion gave away how hard it was for Rickley to stay here, in this moment. The self awareness always seemed to slip through his thin fingers so fast. Straying just barely out of his reach.

The weak nod of acknowledgement was more than Rick could ask for. He just - he just had to keep him engaged, make an effort to keep Rickleys’ mental gears spinning so he had something to hold on to.

But Rick was tired, and… He’d just really rather have Rickley lean his head on one of his shoulders like he did and at least be left with a little faith that everything might just hold together for tonight.

“A-all of them, huh?” That added up to an awful lot of skin. Rick couldn’t recall a single inch of Rickley that wasn’t crisscrossed with divets and indentions, dark like veins in translucent flowers. “E-even the X?”

The twinge of nervousness in Ricks’ gruff voice was placed there for good reason. It made sense to bring it up - it was the biggest, most glaringly obvious scar of them all. He knew damn well that Rickley hated being reminded of it, and that touching it was taboo. But if that’s what Rickley was asking for…

“If y-you want to, w-we can try, baby.”

Strong arms looped around the small of Rickleys’ back, stroking the notches in his curved lower spine. “W-wwwe can try.”

Thing was, this really wasn’t the best place to go about this. They needed to stretch out, make sure Rickley could be comfortable when things would get… uncomfortable. In case he got cold, or scared or… or the sensation of putting hands on that terrible scar overwhelmed him.

Rick picked him up towel and all, pressed safely against his side. That one leg dangled, thigh rested against the ridge of his hip. “L-listen. Let’s uh, go to the bed w-where it’s warm. A-alright?”

Rickley loved being warm. It was the only thing that could bring him around, some days. The only thing that could make him smile.

Their bedroom was nothing special, and definitely not in expensive taste. The bed was little more than a mattress on the floor, covered in a mountain of cozy comforters. It was easier not to tumble out of bed in the throes of nightmares when there were only inches to fall to the hardwood.

Rick sunk his sore knees to the mattress before leaning forward and lying Rickley down, careful to cup the back of his head so that he’d feel stable. “Th-there. That’s - that’s nice, r-right?”

Rickley looked so heavenly, surrounded by puffy white cotton blankets. He sunk right into them like they were clouds, lumpy yet so soft. It made Rick feel more at ease. It was just them and this bottle of cream and the nearby sounds of dog claws skittering down the hallway and - and things would be alright.

He was trying not to worry about hurting Rickley. Trying real hard.

“Just try t-to relax, b-baby,” he cooed, brushing a lock of hair out of Rickleys’ eyes. He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or his partner more. “I-I’m gonna make ‘em go away…”


End file.
